Meant to Be
by RedQueen517
Summary: America Singer entered the Selection, but she never got chosen. Instead, Kamber Leger did, and much to everyone's surprise, won Maxon's heart. But on the day of the announcement of Maxon and Kamber's engagement, angry rebels kill Kamber's entire family. Heartbroken, Maxon discontinues the Selection. Two years later, though, another Selection is underway...full summary inside. R&R!
1. Prologue

Summary

America Singer entered in the Selection but she never got picked. Instead, Kamber Leger got chosen as a throwaway character, but she persevered, much to everyone's surprise, and won Maxon's heart. With this fresh opportunity in hand, Aspen proposes to America and she accepts. But on the day that Maxon will announce he and Kamber's engagement, angered Southern rebels attack the palace and kill Kamber and her entire family. Disheartened, Maxon sends home the remaining Selected. Until two years later, his father announces a raging battle with cancer, pressuring Maxon into another Selection as his dying wish. America enters again, and this time around is chosen. But will _both_ Maxon and America be able to overcome their heartache and find a way to love again?

All rights go to the wonderful Kiera Cass. Dialogue will be similar but _not_ be copied.

Prologue

"You know I'm not going to get picked, right?" I said as the line moved up slowly.

My mother snorted. "That's a bunch of mumbo-jumbo. As soon as everyone sees my daughter, you _will_ be chosen. And why wouldn't they? You're beautiful!"

"Besides the fact that your daughter is a _Five_ ," I pointed out. "Princes are not too keen on magicians and painters to make into _queens_ , are they?"

"Oh, please. None of that will matter once they see your face." She sounded absolutely confident.

I opened my mouth to argue, but a melodic voice got to it first. "Magda!" We both turned.

There was Aspen's mother, a smile turning up the corners of her lips. Behind her, were her twin daughters Kamber and Celia. I was particularly fond of them because they looked and acted a lot like Aspen. And with their dark hair, infectious smiles, and sparkling eyes, who wouldn't like them?

Aspen's mother turned on me, and her smile widened. I returned it happily. I adored this woman; there was just this _quality_ about her that less than one percent of the human population did: true kindness. I'd seen her give away toys and clothes that her children didn't want anymore to Sevens and Eights who had absolutely nothing.

"Hello, Lena, fancy seeing you here." Mom said, forcing a smile. "And Kamber, Celia, how are you today?"

"Great!" they said together.

"You two look stunning," I said truthfully, tucking one of Celia's jet-black curls behind her ear.

"We want to look good for our picture," Kamber said.

"What picture?" I questioned.

"Well. . ." Mrs. Leger's voice lowered a notch. "Yesterday, I was cleaning a magistrates' house, and found out that this 'lottery' isn't much of a lottery after all. This is the reason they're taking pictures and getting all the information they can. Why would it matter how many languages you're fluent in if it were a lottery?"

She had a point.

"It seems that word has spread; look at all the girls who have _overdone_ themselves!" she exclaimed.

She had another point. There were girls who obviously did know. . .and those who _didn't_ know. I saw tons of girls wearing outrageous dresses and resembled clowns with the amount of makeup on their faces. Others. . .they were dirty, hair tangled, wearing old, tattered clothes.

Me? I was just. . .decent. Decent wasn't good enough. An unwelcome flutter of worry tingled my stomach.

Wait. . .but why was I worried? I stopped my train of thought to rearrange it.

I didn't want to be a princess; at least, not _Illéa's_ princess, at least. I wanted to be _Aspen's_ princess. And if I didn't look good enough for the _posh_ royal family, then that was good. I would at least be a step below Aspen's sisters. They had natural beauty that was rarely found anywhere, and the hints of makeup highlighted that natural beauty. If either of them won, or even got _into_ the competition, Aspen's family would have everything they'd ever wanted. My mother would surely approve of me marrying a One; she deemed me lucky if I even got a Four! And think about her reaction to marrying a _One_.

"You're absolutely right," Mother agreed. "Look at that girl; she looks like she's ready to go into the circus tent!" She laughed, but there was something off about it. She hated that I was in the middle and not on top of everyone else.

"I don't know why some girls way overdo it," Lena said. "Just look at your daughter; she's so pretty! I'm so glad you didn't go down that road."

"Oh, I'm nothing compared to Kamber or Celia!" I winked at them, and they giggled.

"Are you kidding? Each and every time Aspen comes around from helping your brother, he tells me that the Singers have more than their share of talent and beauty." Aspen's mother said.

"Really!" my mother said.

"Yes, really. A mother could not ask for a better son; he's so supportive and works so hard."

"He will make some lucky girl very happy someday," Mother said.

Mrs. Leger's head turned quickly to make sure no one was listening. "Between you and I, Magda, I think he might already have somebody in mind."

My heart stopped, then restarted faster than ever. I didn't know if I should say something or stay silent, not sure if it would give me away.

"Is that so? She must be special if your Aspen chose her; what's she like?" Mother asked.

"Actually, I don't know! I haven't met her yet. And I can only guess that he's been seeing someone, but lately I've been seeing him happier," she responded, eyes sparkling.

 _Why lately?_ I wondered. We'd been together for nearly two years, so why only _lately_?

"He hums us to sleep," Celia piped up.

"He also sings," Kamber supplied.

"I didn't know he sings!" I exclaimed.

"Uh-huh," they sang.

"Then he _has_ to be dating someone!" Mother said. "I wonder who she might be."

"Me too. But I'm guessing she must be absolutely _wonderful_. For the past few months he's been working hard - harder than he usually does. And he's been storing money away. I'm not completely sure, but it's my guess that he's saving up to get married."

The gasp that escaped was uncalled for; a thrill passed through my entire body. Luckily they all assumed it was the general excitement of it.

"And I couldn't be more happy for him," Mrs. Leger continued. "Even if he hasn't told us who she is, I see her as part of the family already. He smiles a lot, and he just seems. . .content. It's been hard on all of us since we lost Herrick, and Aspen has taken it upon himself to be the father figure. A girl who makes him happy makes all of us happy."

"She is such a lucky girl!" Mom cooed. "Your Aspen is a great boy!"

I could hardly believe it. Here his family was, trying to tie loose ends, and he was storing money away for _me_! I didn't know if I should chide him or kiss him. I was just so. . .lost for words.

He was going to propose!

I couldn't get it into my brain properly even though it was all I could think about. _Aspen, Aspen, Aspen,_ I sang in my head. I moved up the line, signed a paper to confirm everything on my form was true, and got my picture taken. The room was small and connected to the window where you were supposed to sign. The walls were made of gray cement and there was one stool to sit on. I sat on the stool, righted myself, and turned to the photographer.

No girl in all of Illéa - or perhaps the world - could beat my smile.

* * *

 **A/N: Welcome to my first story! _Please_ tell me what you think and if I should continue. Thanks for reading and tell me what you think by reviewing!**

 **Until next time,**

 **Red**


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Ten days later, a rare thing happened: I beat Aspen to our sanctuary.

It took some planning and some work to get everything I wanted done, but I did it. As I rearranged the new candle I'd bought just for us, I heard someone climbing up the tree.

"Hello, handsome."

Aspen jumped a little and we both laughed. I lit the candle that I'd bought with some of the money I'd stored, lighting the treehouse dimly. Aspen crossed the treehouse over to me and I instinctively crawled into his lap. He stroked my hair while I spoke.

"I never got to tell you about how it went," I said, knowing he would know exactly what I was talking about.

"How did it go?" He asked. "Mom said it was jam-packed."

"It was! Aspen, it was. . .crazy. You should have seen what some girls had put on; it was outrageous! And I'm sure it's not as random as they say; I was right. There are way better candidates to choose in Carolina than me, so it was all just for nothing."

"Even so, thank you so much for doing this. It means more to me than you'll ever know." I turned my neck to face him, and his blazing green eyes were focused on me. Drinking me in, ignoring everything around the treehouse.

"Well, that's not even the best part. Mom had no idea that I'd promised you I would enter, and she bribed me to sign up." The smile that broke across my face refused to be contained. This week families were already throwing huge parties for their daughters, certain that they were already in. I'd been to seven celebrations already, singing at two in one night to get my pay. And Mom wasn't lying; it felt amazing to have my own money.

"She did? How?" Aspen asked curiously.

"With money. Enough of that, Aspen; look around!" I got out of his lap and started getting plates. I'd made enough dinner to serve seven instead of five on purpose to make him a big, hearty meal. He didn't get enough of those, and he got even _less_ of the sweets I'd been baking for days.

"Mer, what is all this?"

"It's food. I made it all by myself." I practically glowed with pride. Finally, I could give Aspen all that he had given me. But the glow faded once Aspen's smile dropped like a stone in a bucket.

"Aspen, what's wrong?" I asked desperately.

"This. . ." He gestured to the whole thing, "is not right." He shook his head and turned away from the feast.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"America, I'm the one who's supposed to be providing for you. It's so embarrassing for me to come here to have you do this for me."

"Aspen, I give you food _all_ the time. What difference does it make?"

"Leftovers, America. Those are just things you don't _want_. But to have you do this - _I_ am supposed to do -"

"You give me things all the time! I have everything I need! All my pennies -"

"The pennies?" He sounded incredulous. "You think bringing up those stupid pennies now is a good idea? Don't you know how much I _hate_ it? That you have the most beautiful voice but I can't properly pay you when everyone else can?"

"You think I care? I don't care about the pennies; they're not even necessary! My singing to you is a gift. Anything that you want and I have is yours!" I knew our voices were raising and we should be careful, but neither of us could care.

"I don't take charity, America. I'm a man; I'm supposed to take care of you."

Aspen tore his hands through his hair, his breaths coming quickly. Just like every time we argued, he was thinking through it. But this time, there was something different in his eyes. Something I didn't like. Instead of his face getting focused, meaning he had his argument in place, it fell into confusion just like that. My anger blew out as quickly as it came, seeing him looking so lost. Instead, I was wracked with guilt. I'd meant to show him how much I loved him, not embarrass him!

"I love you so much," I whispered.

His eyes didn't change.

"I love you, too, Mer." But his gaze still avoided me. I plucked some of the handmade bread and put it firmly in his hand. He took a bite, too hungry to pass it up.

"I never meant to hurt you or anything. It was supposed to make you happy."

"No, America, it's wonderful. I can't wrap my head around the fact that you did this all for _me_. It's just. . .it bothers me that you can do this for me, but I can't do the same. You don't deserve it." He spoke in between bites.

"You have to stop thinking of me like that. When it's you and I, I'm not a Five and you're not a Six. We're just Aspen and America. Our love just. . .is. It shouldn't be so complicated."

"But it _is_ complicated." He finally looked at me. "That's how I was born and raised. Since I was a little boy, it was always, 'Sixes are born to serve people' and 'Sixes are meant to be invisible.'" He held my hand tightly. "If we're together, you're going to be invisible just like me. I don't want to give you that."

"Aspen, we've been through this and through this. I know that things will be different, that they'll be harder, but I'm ready. I thought I'd made that clear." I laid a hand on his chest. "When you're ready to ask, I'm ready to accept."

It was a risk to put myself out there the way I just had, to make it crystal-clear how deeply my affections ran for him. He knew what I meant, but if making myself weaker meant he'd be stronger, I would suck it up. His eyes pried into mine. If he was looking for any trace of doubt, he wouldn't find any. Aspen was the one thing in this world I was absolutely sure of.

"No." The word almost got lost in the wind, but it was this word that broke everything.

"Excuse me?"

"No." This time it was sharper and felt like a knife to my heart.

"What?"

"I don't know how I was so stupid. . .to think that we could do this." He tugged at his hair as if to get all the thoughts he'd ever had of me out of his brain.

"But I thought you loved me."

"Of course I love you. That's it. If I loved you, I can't make you like me. I can't stand the thought of seeing you weak or hungry or cold or scared. I can't make you like me."

Tears pricked at my eyes like needles. He didn't meant it; he couldn't! Before I could argue or reprimand him, he was already moving to get out.

"Aspen! Aspen, stop it!"

"I'm going, America. Going home. I'm sorry I fooled both of us like this. I won't pull you in any deeper; it's done."

"What are you talking about?" My voice was thick, and it was hard to talk through the lump in my throat.

"We're done. I won't do this to you anymore."

The tears finally flowed. "Aspen, stop. We can talk this through. We always can."

"Not this time we can't. I can't do this anymore."

"Aspen. . ." I pleaded.

He pulled me flush against his body and pulled my face to his. He kissed me with all his might one last time. "I only know I loved you because I let you go." Those were his last words before he was just a shadow in the night.

I keeled over and cried with all my might. I looked at the candle I'd bought through the torrent of tears blurring my sight, and felt a sudden wave of anger. I blew out the candle and threw it.

Threw away everything we'd ever had.

* * *

The next few days passed painfully slowly. I had to put on a show for my family, and even then they could tell something was off, but they must have assumed it was just nerves for the upcoming Selection. A thousand times I wanted to burst into tears, but I held it back. I just pushed on, each second painful, my goal was Friday. Just make it until Friday. Hoping that things would go back to normal after the _Report_.

I dreamed up a whole scenario in my head. How they would announce Kamber or Celia's name, and my mother would be disappointed, but not as much as if it were a stranger. May and Dad would be happy for them; our families had always been close. I knew Aspen was thinking about me the way I'd been thinking about him. I bet he'd be running to my side, on his knees begging for forgiveness and asking me to marry him. It would be a little early, since there was no guarantee the girls would win, but it would be amazing just the same.

In my head, everything was perfect. In my head, everyone could be happy. . .

* * *

It was ten minutes until the _Report_ came on. Yesterday I'd sang at three celebrations, but tonight it was quiet. Everyone was on edge, waiting for the moment of truth. I'd taken a shower early and was sitting on the couch with Gerad on my lap. Even little Gerad seemed to be buzzing with excitement.

"I remember when King Clarkson chose Queen Amberly! Oh, I knew from the start that she would be the one." Mom was making popcorn, something she saved for special occasions such as the Grateful Feast or Christmas. Today was just as special as any of those occasions.

"Did you enter, Mommy?" Gerad asked.

"No, honey, Mommy was two years too young. But I wouldn't change that; I got your father instead." She smiled and winked.

Wow. She must have been in a good mood to say something that affectionate towards Dad.

"Queen Amberly is the best queen in history. She's so pretty and sweet and smart and I wanna be just like her." May said, sighing dreamily.

"She is a great queen," I put in quietly.

Finally eight o'clock rolled around when all of us were situated with bowls of popcorn around our small living room. The national emblem appeared on screen along with the anthem. I could feel my hands shaking and my heart thumping fast. I was ready for this to be done and it hadn't even begun.

The king appeared on the screen, his voice was warmer than I'd ever remembered it to be. All the announcements were kept short and sweet. It seemed like everyone was in a good mood and excited as well.

When the king hastily wrapped up the announcements, the Master of Events bounded onstage and introduced Gavril, who walked to the royal family.

"Good evening, Your Highness," he said as he bowed.

"Hello, Gavril, pleasure to see you." King Clarkson said pleasantly. He was practically giggling with giddiness.

"Looking forward to the announcement of the decade, I see?" Gavril teased.

"Yes, yes, of course. I was there when a few were drawn; all very good candidates."

"So you already know who they are?" Gavril asked.

"Just a couple of them."

"Did Daddy happen to spill any information with you, sir?" Gavril focused in on Prince Maxon.

"No; they'll be revealed to me at the same time as everyone else," Maxon responded. He was fidgeting and wiping his hands to his pressed slacks. You could see he was trying to hide his nerves, but not doing a very good job.

I realized his hands weren't the only ones sweating. I quickly wiped my own palms on my bare legs.

"Queen Amberly." Gavril acknowledged the queen. "Any advice for our Daughters of Illéa?"

She smiled her content, calm smile. I didn't see King Clarkson's Selection, but I couldn't imagine anyone being as poised and lovable as her.

"Enjoy your last night as a regular girl, because after this, no matter what, your life will be changed forever. And this advice may be old, but it's good: Be yourself."

"Wise advice, Your Majesty. Now let us reveal the thirty-five young ladies picked for the Selection. Ladies and gentlemen, please join us in giving a hand to the following Daughters of Illéa!"

Queen Amberly stayed poised as ever, her smile grew a little wider as everyone clapped. The screen switched to the emblem. In the upper-right corner, was a small box with Maxon's face so everyone could gauge his reaction as the pictures of the Selected came and went.

Gavril had a set of cards made of expensive ivory-colored paper embellished with gold, ready to read out the names of the girls whose worlds were about to change for the rest of their lives (and I could only assume their names were written in elegant script). The Selection would start this very moment.

My heart thundered in my chest, ready to fly out of my throat as Gavril opened his mouth and cleared his throat. "Lady Elayna Stoles of Hansport, a Three." A picture of a small girl with pale skin popped up, looking like a lady. Maxon smiled.

"Lady Tuesday Keeper of Waverly, a Four." A girl with freckles and blue eyes appeared, looking a bit older and more mature than the last.

"Lady Fiona Castley of Paloma, a Three." A brunette with blazing brown eyes popped up. Looked about my age, but she seemed more. . .sophisticated.

"Doesn't she seem real -" I didn't get to finish my sentence.

"Lady Kamber Leger of Carolina, a Six."

The popcorn flew out of May's mouth and she screamed. Mom didn't move; she was seemingly frozen. I gaped at the screen even after Kamber's picture disappeared, mouth hanging open. Dad, beside me, smiled, but didn't go all gaga like May.

It happened like it had in my mind.

But the ending was a long way away. . .and now I could just hope Aspen had realized his mistake and come begging for forgiveness. . .and my hand.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"I called Aspen over today," Mom said ever-so-casually a few days later over lunch.

Everybody saw it as a normal procedure. Aspen or his mother came around to our house sometimes; it was nothing new.

But it meant everything in the world to me. It also made me nervous as hell. What if it turned out badly and nothing was resolved? What if he totally ignored me, and treated me as if I were a stranger?

No. I couldn't think like that. Aspen and I had been together for two and a half years. There was no way he could totally disregard me after only a few days.

Hopefully he would come to his senses.

I couldn't help but ask, "Why?"

She shrugged. "Lena told me that they haven't really been getting in a lot of work done lately since the whole Selection scam has been keeping her busy. So I offered to pay Aspen to clean the house a bit. Every penny counts for them."

"What time?" I asked. I knew I was treading on thin ice and Mom would soon start to get suspicious, yet I couldn't help myself.

"All I know is he's coming after lunch. No exact time."

After lunch, I helped wash, dry, and put away the dishes, before going into my room. I dug around in my drawer until I found the tiny jar of pennies I'd stored.

I crawled into bed and studied the jar full of pennies, remembering the first two pennies I'd put in here; when I was fourteen, not much older than May herself, I'd met Aspen at the treehouse for the first time and sang to him. He told me that my voice was so beautiful he had to pay me. Despite my protests, he'd dug around in his coat pocket and salvaged two pennies and put them firmly into my palm, refusing to take them back.

I was jarred out of my thoughts when I heard the doorbell ring. I quickly got up and answered when no one else would, and came face-to-face with none other than Aspen.

"Hello, America." His voice was smooth and gave nothing away. All the same, it was a stab to the heart.

"Hi, Aspen." My voice came out almost sad, and I cursed myself for not being composed.

Just then Mom practically danced in, not noticing the heavy tension in the air. "Hello, Aspen!" she greeted. "Nice to see you again. I thought you could go ahead and help America clean her room, it's really messy."

He nodded once, unable to refuse the offer.

Aspen followed close behind to my room. I didn't have to turn to check if he was following; I could feel his presence behind me.

Mom was actually right. When I shoved the door open and Aspen went in, his eyebrows raised. He'd been to my room a few times, and then it was usually neat or a little untidy, never the mess it was like now.

"Did you let a dog in here or something?" he asked.

Dirty clothes were on the floor, papers and pens and textbooks scattered on my study, my bed messy and unmade. But once his eyes fell upon the little jar of pennies, his careful composure cracked. And I saw all the pain and sadness in his eyes, causing _me_ physical pain. It was almost more than I could handle.

I cleared my throat and went inside. "So. How is Kamber?"

"She's over the moon about being in the Selection." He shook his head. "It's crazy. A lot of people are coming in."

He bent over and started folding my clothes and putting them back in my drawers. I helped him.

There was a heavy silence hanging in the air, and I finally broke it. "Aspen?"

"What?"

"You're getting paid, right? Your family? For Kamber being in the Selection?" My voice shook.

He nodded. "Today we got our first official paycheck and Kamber is now officially a Four. We're all still Sixes, though."

"Where is all this money going?"

"Most of it to our savings, of course. But Mom insisted I have some."

"And what are you going to do with all this money?"

"Keep it."

"Yes, I know, but -"

"Do you want me to make your bed?" he asked.

Tears were in my eyes and I stood there, frozen, wondering what was going on. He had money, so why wasn't he asking me to be his wife? What was keeping him from it? Pain was ripping through my chest, tearing through my entire body and expanding to my lungs. I could barely breathe through the pain.

"Aspen. Get out." I said.

"What? I'm supposed to be -"

"I don't care. We can't talk about this right here, right now. If you still want to talk, meet me at the treehouse at midnight. If you're not there, I'll assume you're over me and will truly move on with your life. Right now, just get. Out."

"But -"

"Aspen." My voice was warning him.

He shook his head, shoved past me, and left.

* * *

I didn't touch my dinner tonight.

I was anxious and nervous to the point of queasiness, and all I did was shove my food around my plate. Looking at food was making everything _worse_ , so I gave half of it to Gerad and half of it to May, before storming away.

I closed the door to my room and hugged my pillow to my chest, finally letting the tears break free. They came slowly and silently, trailing down my cheeks and staining the pillow and the sheets.

I lost track of time. The sun set, and it was now dark. I was still hugging the pillow like a lifeline, no longer crying but hiccupping. Under the crack in my door, the lights were off, but suddenly they switched on and Mom came into my room.

"America, dear, what are you still doing up?" she asked, sitting on my bed. "It's nearly half past eleven. You should really get some rest."

I nodded but couldn't trust myself to speak. I avoided Mom's gaze as I got up and grabbed my pajamas before slipping into the bathroom. I washed my face, put on my pajamas, and brushed my teeth.

Carefully, I crept back to my room, breaking my usual ritual. I didn't go to the kitchen to get leftovers; tonight there were none. Still, I opened my window, remembering how I'd done this a thousand times before. I crawled out of the window and scurried across the backyard and climbed up the slats nailed to the tree with ease.

As I climbed into the tiny box that had become Aspen and I's safe haven, I wasn't surprised to see he wasn't here.

 _Maybe he's gotten over me. Maybe he isn't coming at all._ I thought.

But I wasn't giving up on us just yet.

I waited. And waited. The seconds seemed to be passing twice as slow, so I had no idea what time it was. There was no moon tonight, providing no light. My eyes searched around the dark treehouse, hardly seeing anything.

Suddenly I heard footsteps moving across the grass. My heart sped up as the steps moved up the wooden slats leading up to this tiny box. And finally, Aspen crawled through the opening.

"Aspen?"

"America." He breathed.

Hearing his voice was like a slap to the face.

"You came."

"I couldn't stay away." His voice sounded pained. "America, I don't know what to say. I'm sorry."

"You should be." A wave of anger passed over me, remembering how he'd caused me so much pain for _nothing_. "It was all too easy for you to just give up on us! After two years, Aspen, I thought it'd be enough! But no! You were too afraid of making me a Six! Well, news flash: _I don't care_. All I wanted was to be with you. Nothing mattered but being with you."

"I know, Mer. I shouldn't have done that."

"I thought you loved me. What you did shows me you don't."

He looked into my eyes and grabbed my hands. "No! Don't you ever say that, America! I do love you I love you so much! That's _why_ I did it. Because I don't want you to be like me -"

"That's where you're wrong. Didn't you hear me? I don't care! How many times do I have to say it to get it through your thick skull? I love you and you love me. That's all that ever mattered."

His eyes welled up. "I was being stupid." He tugged at his hair, turmoil clear in his eyes. "I don't know why I did."

I softened. "I can't stay away from you, Aspen. I love you too much; we were always meant to be. It doesn't matter what caste you are, it never did."

"America Singer, I love you more than words can say. I can't let you go no matter what; my mind always drifts back to _you_. Please forgive me."

"I will," I whispered. "I can't ever stay away from you, Aspen. I love you too much to let you go."

With that, he pulled me to him and kissed me with all the passion, all the love, all the adoration he had. But I didn't respond. I stayed stoic as tears ran down my face. "America? America, what's wrong?"

"I don't know." I said. "I guess it's just my feelings are finally catching up to me." I settled for a hug, just wanting to feel the warmth of his body on mine right now. That's all that I wanted. We had been separated for too long, and I guess that it had finally caught up to me. Being away from Aspen was like starving myself of something absolutely necessary.

"I love you so much, Mer." Aspen said.

"Me, too Aspen. Me, too."

* * *

Today Kamber was off to the palace.

I remembered what I'd put on to take my picture - a green tunic top and khaki shorts - my best clothes. I thought it was only fair to put this on to see Kamber off. My family were all so excited, the house was kind of a mess. Even little Gerad was seen visibly happier.

We left early, as we were walking towards the province square and we weren't taking the bus. May was practically skipping ahead, and even Mom had a content smile on her face. We stood at the sidelines, waiting for our Selected girl to make an appearance.

It seemed like the entire province was there. I was pretty much squished in between Dad and May, and May wasn't making my claustrophobia better with all her neck-craning and fidgeting.

There was an uproar of the lower castes when Kamber made an appearance. The Twos and Threes were absolutely fuming, staring at Kamber with flaming eyes. But the Fours on down were cheering her on; they loved her. And Kamber looked so pretty; even though every Selected girl was wearing the same uniform, Kamber made a white shirt, black pants, and a lily flower in her hair look a whole new level of fashionable.

Kamber was positively beaming, her smile stretching across her face and waving at the crowd. She didn't care what the Twos and Threes thought; she was just living her wildest dreams.

The mayor rose up to the podium and cleared his throat. "And today Carolina will be seeing off the beautiful daughter of Lena and Herrick Leger, the new Lady Kamber Leger!" The crowd roared, clapping and cheering, some throwing flowers. Kamber blew kisses in turn and caught one of the flowers: a rose. "Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in sending off Kamber Leger, our new favorite Daughter of Illéa!" Behind her, a band played the anthem.

The mayor whispered something to Kamber, and she eagerly nodded and rose onto the stage. "Hello all! I would like to thank all of you for coming and being so supportive, it means a lot to me. So thank you and I'll see you all on the _Report_!" Another wave of flower-throwing, clapping, and cheering.

The mayor finished his speech. Kamber smiled wildly, the excitement clear in her green eyes.

It was time for her to say good-bye to her family. People immediately started to leave, but we all lingered a bit longer. I caught Aspen's eye in the crowd. He winked and smiled.

This was my happily ever after.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, faved, or followed this story so far! This story will be in America's POV the whole story, not Kamber's. We'll follow her Selection loosely and focus sort of on America and Aspen (I'm still Team Maxon all the way, don't worry!), so be patient until the next Selection!**

 **Later,**

 **Red**


	4. Chapter 3

**Note: Just a response to a review I got, this** ** _is_** **a Maxon & America story. Just bear with me and we'll get there!**

Chapter 3

"Mom, can we watch the makeovers of the Selected?" May asked. It was now after dinnertime and surely all the girls had arrived and surely all the cameras had gotten a good view of them. Surely it would be on the public channel anyone in Illéa could access.

"No," Mom said rather sharply, "The Selection is a bunch of rubbish. We are a decent family who will not watch pure royal garbage."

I bit my lip as I heard Mom rant. Just a week and a half ago she was rambling on about how the Selection was the opportunity of a lifetime and now she was spewing crap about it. I wonder why?

Oh, right. Because she was so _sure_ I would get chosen but Kamber did instead.

She'd get over it. Eventually.

I finished my schoolwork for the day and stored it in a drawer to get it checked tomorrow. Exhausted from hardly sleeping last night, I got ready for bed half an hour early and fell asleep faster than I thought possible.

* * *

Mom could not argue on this one.

Tonight was the first _Report_ and the first real look at the Selected girls. Mom couldn't tell us we couldn't watch it, because by all means _everyone_ watched it. Even Mom begrudgingly sat down on the living room floor, her expression sour.

The anthem came on, as usual, with the emblem.

King Clarkson spoke at the podium about a brief and unsuccessful attack on the palace. "See? It's stupid. How could I subject America to that torture? I'm so glad I didn't." Mom was muttering.

Announcement after announcement was getting tedious. I tried to listen to what he said, but we, even Mom, were excited about what they had on the Selected girls.

And then Gavril Fadaye himself was walking on set after being introduced by the Master of Events.

"Good evening, beautiful Illéa! Tonight I have a special announcement. The Selection has been going on for a week now and eight ladies have gone home, and that leaves twenty seven beautiful women for Prince Maxon to choose from. Next week, the majority of the _Capital Report_ will be focused on getting to know these lovely young women. But before we get to the ladies, why don't we take a moment with the man of the night? How are you, Prince Maxon?" Gavril asked as he walked across the stage.

He smiled. "I'm doing fairly well, Gavril, thank you."

"Are you enjoying thirty-five girls invading your palace?" he joked.

"Oh, I wouldn't call it invading. I've loved getting to know these ladies."

"That's great, that's great. And are they all turning out to be sweet, gentle ladies?" he asked.

"Sweet, yes. Gentle? Well. . ." he looked over at one of the girls, and the cameras immediately focused on the rows of twenty-seven girls. I caught sight of Kamber in a deep blue gown with hints of makeup, looking so beautiful it surprised me.

"Well?" Gavril prompted. "Is someone over there being rough?"

All the girls giggled, so the real traitor wasn't revealed.

"What exactly did one of these ladies do?" Gavril asked.

"Oh, well, let me tell you." The prince got very comfortable, looking more at ease than I'd ever seen him on a _Report_. "I found one of the girls at the garden and offered her help. She took it, of course, but refused the flower I gave her and told me that if I gave her the first flower, I'd have to give her the last. And proceeded to lecture me about how she was not my plaything and she was a real girl." He looked very amused, and above him the king and queen exchanged a look. Clearly everyone but the culprit knew the story.

"A lecture, you say?"

"Yes, Gavril, a lecture. I think it was about her inexperience with boys. Or so that's what she told me. Also that it made her unsettled that I had thirty-four other girlfriends. Which is why I forgave and forgot. Well, not really forgot, but still forgave."

"So she's still here, then?" Gavril questioned.

"Definitely. And I plan on keeping her with us for a while."

"Ooh!" May said. "I wonder who she could be!"

"Hush, May," Mom scolded. "The prince is just talking it up. He's lying."

The _Report_ was wrapped up quickly and Mom stormed away. While I got ready, May came into the bathroom with me. "Ames? Why do you think Mom's so mad lately?"

"She's just upset that I didn't get chosen for the Selection," I said. "She'll get over it."

"Kamber's gonna be great!" May said enthusiastically. "I think she and Maxon look good together! I'm rooting for her."

"Yeah. She is a great girl. I think that Maxon was talking about her lecturing him, because it is kind of in her nature to put people in their place. And why else would he keep her? Not to be rude, but I don't think Maxon would have good reason to keep a Six unless she was like. . .like, well, Kamber."

"You're right," May said. "He _must_ have been talking about her. There's no way it could've been any of the other clowns."

"They're not _all_ bad. Didn't you see Marlee Tames? And Kriss Ambers? They don't seem half bad. Plus, they didn't wear that much makeup."

"Still, I like Kamber _much_ better," May said. "I think she's gonna win."

* * *

That night I met Aspen at the treehouse. When Aspen and I were apart for more than a few days, we both got anxious.

He beat me by a few minutes. I crawled up the slats quickly and went in through the little opening. I crossed the treehouse in two strides, head crouched uncomfortably, and made my way to Aspen's side. I swung my legs over his. There. That was comfortable.

He clasped my hand. "We got our second paycheck in the mail today." He shook his head. "I think that the amount of money they gave us was more than our yearly earnings combined."

"It's amazing how much the government is willing to pay for one girl to be one of Maxon's thirty-five girlfriends," I agreed quietly.

"I'm still scared for Kamber. She has a chance of getting her heart shattered by Prince Maxon, and she is also being subjected to palace attacks. I hear they get worse during Selections," Aspen said.

"Don't you worry about Kamber; she'll be okay," I reassured him. "She's strong."

"Yeah. A few days ago Kamber sent us a letter on the 'brief, unsuccessful' attack King Clarkson talked about on the _Report_. She told us she was great and everything was totally okay and she didn't understand why some girls wanted to leave. And also put in how she really liked the prince."

I laughed. "Sounds just like her. She's tough, being born and raised a Six. She knows how to deal with this stuff."

I snuggled closer to him. We talked into the early hours of the morning, until I realized that he should really get going when his eyes started drooping. I convinced him to go home and get some sleep; I should probably get some rest myself.

I went back into my own bed and proceeded to get six hours of sleep.

* * *

Another week passed by and Mom's mood didn't improve. In fact, it got even worse.

On Friday, we all gathered round before the _Report_. All of us - except for Mom, of course - were excited. Tonight would be the first night that we actually got to hear a good scoop on all the Selected.

After the emblem disappeared and the anthem died down, Maxon appeared onstage.. "Good evening to you all citizens of Illéa. I know tonight will be a very exciting night for all of us as we get to know the twenty-five remaining women in the Selection. I can't begin to tell you how excited I am for you to get to hear from them. I'm sure you'll agree that all of these young ladies are great candidates for a leader and future princess.

"But before we got to that, I have an announcement to make: I am working on a new project that is of great importance to me. Having met all these ladies of diverse castes, I've been exposed to the world outside our palace, a world that I hardly ever see. I've been told of its wonders and also told of the great darkness. After speaking to these ladies, I've discovered the importance of the world outside these palace walls. I have been awoken to the poverty and suffering of our lower castes, and I it is my full intention to do something about it."

What the hell?

"It will be at least a few months before we can set this project up properly, but around the next new year, there will be volunteers to serve food in every Province Services Office to any Five, Six, Seven, or Eight may go there for a free meal. Please know that the women before you have all sacrificed some or all of their paycheck to help fund this program. And while this may not be able to last forever, we will keep it running for as long as possible.

"I feel that no good prince, king, or leader can let the starving go unfed. Most of Illéa is made up of the lower castes, and I feel we have overlooked them for far too long. This is why I'm moving forward and asking others to join me. To the Twos, Threes, and some Fours. . .the roads you drive on don't pave themselves. Your houses are not cleaned magically. Here is the opportunity to acknowledge the cold, hard truth by donating money to your local Province Services Office.

"By birth you are blessed, and it's time to acknowledge the blessing. I will have more updates as the project goes on, and I thank you for your attention. But now, let us proceed to the real reason you tuned in tonight. Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to Mr. Gavril Fadaye!"

There was applause all around, though some of it was not as enthusiastic as it would've been had Prince Maxon spared us the announcement. "Thank you, Your Majesty," Gavril announced as he danced on set. "Well done! If this whole prince charade doesn't work out, you should consider an entertainment job."

The prince laughed as he went back to his seat. The cameras focused in on Gavril. "Ladies and gentlemen of Illéa, do we have a treat for you! Tonight we will be getting to know each individual Selected. We know you've all been dying to know them, so this evening. . .we're getting started with Miss Celeste Newsome of Clermont!"

Celeste absolutely disgusted _all_ of us, and so did the next girl, Bariel Pratt. They tried to be sexy and bent forward too much to get a good look of their cleavage. It was a false act and everybody knew it.

Others were less sexy and more composed. Say, a girl named Tiny, kept shifting and licking her lips, and her voice matched her name. But you could see she did have something the others didn't: sweetness. Emmica Brass and Marlee Tames were composed and poised, but Marlee's voice was also full of excitement and enthusiasm. If Kamber didn't win, I'd be rooting for her.

The questions varied from girl to girl, but there were two he asked everyone: "What do you think of the prince?" and "Are you the girl who lectured him?"

Samantha Lowell had just finished when Gavril called Kamber. We all perked up, anxious for what both had to say. She walked across the stage with quiet confidence and sat down in front of Gavril, and picked up a microphone.

"Kamber Leger. I've never heard that name. Is there a story behind it?"

She smiled. "Yes, actually. My mom's mom's name was Amber and my dad's mother's name was Kamille. So they combined the names and got Kamber. She lectures me a lot on how I got my name; she loves telling me the story about it."

He laughed. "Lectures you, huh?"

"Yep. She likes to call it a story but it always ends up as more of a lecture."

"So she lectures you, then? What about you?"

"I mean. . ." She toyed with a strand of her hair, her smile turning cheeky. "I guess."

"Does that mean you're the girl who lectured him?"

She sighed. "Yes, yes, it was me. And right now, my brother is extremely proud of me."

That he was. May burst out laughing and I covered my mouth to stifle a giggle. The prince called out, "Get her to tell you the story!"

"Oh! What's the story?" he asked, looking from Kamber to Maxon.

"Well, I. . .always happened to like gardens, and when I saw the palace gardens, I really wanted some fresh air, you know? Because I'd been on a plane all day, all I needed was some real air. The guards said it was a restricted area, and we almost started to argue. Until Maxon was walking by and told them to open the doors for me. He followed me to make sure I was all right. We happened to be beside a rosebush, so he plucked one off and gave it to me. I don't know what happened, I just. . .started lecturing him about how if he gave me the first flower, he'd have to give me the last. Told him I didn't want him giving me and thirty four other girls flowers because that wasn't right, and I was a real girl with real feelings."

Gavril was laughing by the end, and Maxon was positively shaking with laughter. Even the king and queen were laughing. "I'm curious. What kind of dates do you go on?" he asked.

"We go for walks around the garden and we talk."

"That sounds refreshing. Would you say the garden is your favorite place in the palace?"

"Well, I thought it was my favorite. But in the dining room, the food is just amazing, so. . ." Gavril chuckled.

"You are the one and only Six in the competition, yes? Do you think that will hurt your chances of winning?"

"No. I hope that Maxon will choose who he loves, not what statues she is."

"Of course, of course. So do you think you'll beat everyone else? Make it to the Elite?"

"Well. . .I wouldn't say that. I don't think I'm better than anyone; they all have great personalities. I just don't think Maxon would do that, just discount someone because of their caste."

I heard the others gasp through the cameras. I did, too, when I realized that not once but twice had Kamber called the prince _Maxon_ not _Prince Maxon_. On frickin live television.

"So it seems you've gotten to know our prince well, aye? Tell me what you think about _Maxon_."

"Maxon Schreave is the definition of all things good. He will be a great king and husband, as well. And he will ultimately forgive someone who misjudges him." She gave him a grave look, and he smiled. "The one he marries will be lucky."

"Thank you so much, Lady Kamber." She got up and shook his hand. "Next up, Miss Tallulah Bell."

Looks like Kamber had gotten in far.

* * *

 **A/N: I know this chapter wasn't all that interesting or anything, but it's necessary to have some fillers before the real plot begins! Next update will be soon.**


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Something felt wrong.

Never in my life had I felt this way. . .like my entire life was becoming a waiting game. I think Aspen felt it, too.

I felt a nervous tingle in my stomach every second of the day, sometimes it was more prominent, sometimes it was more...controlled. All the same, it was always lurking there. I knew _something_ big was going to happen. I just didn't know how, when, why, or where. It was all just a big blank.

Another week passed, and along with that another _Report_. Kamber was still there, among twenty one others, and it was now a month since the Selection had started. The Swendish family also did a segment on Friday's _Report_ on international relations and such.

I think Mom was finally getting over her bitter mood about the Selection. She didn't talk so much trash about the Selected girls or the royal family, and she wasn't quite so angry watching the _Reports_ anymore. My mother would always hold this against the royal family, but she would someday forget about it.

I was also pretty confused. Kamber had been in the Selection for a month now, and Aspen's family had been getting steady paychecks. He had more money than he ever had in his life. So _why_ wasn't he proposing?

Another _Report_ passed, and with it another week. Aspen promised to meet me at the treehouse that night, but I waited for an hour after midnight, and still nothing. I ended up going to bed at one a.m. feeling like there was a hollow space in my heart.

The gravity was slowly shifting in my home, as if everyone else could feel the change about to take place, but I think I felt it the most. Even May's energy had drained a bit and she was more anxious than before.

We went on with our lives at home, did what we usually did. On Friday, we all sat down in the living room, and May held my hand. After the anthem died down and the emblem disappeared, it was the prince that appeared onscreen, standing from his throne with a microphone, smiling tightly.

Uh-oh. What could this mean?

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he began in a stiffly formal voice. "Tonight I have a very important announcement to make.

"There has been a recent turn of events that has forced me - and all of us - to reconsider the operation and safety of the Selection. After a severe rebel attack, I am glad to announce all the Selected girls made it out safely and the Royal Guard is intact. Three ladies asked to leave, and I wasn't about to hold them here against their will.

"And though it pains me to do this, I have discussed the matter with my family and a few advisers and have decided to narrow the Selection down to the Elite. However, instead of narrowing it down to ten, I've decided to keep only six."

"Six?" Mom gasped. "How 'severe' must this rebel attack have been for him to send so many girls home?" We were all shocked from the sudden announcement.

"I congratulate the six girls who have made it to the Elite. Without further ado, I will announce our final six contenders: Lady Marlee Tames and Lady Kriss Ambers." He took a deep breath and continued. "Lady Natalie Luca and Lady Celeste Newsome. Lady Elise Whisks. . .and Lady Kamber Leger."

Wow. What must Kamber have done to make it down to the Elite, as a _Six_ , and beating all the Twos and Threes, and even Fours?

She was tougher competition than I'd first thought her out to be.

* * *

I sighed in relief when I saw Aspen at the treehouse.

"Hi," I said.

"Hey."

"Remember when I signed up for the Selection a month and a half ago?" I asked.

"Of course I do. That's going to be hard to forget."

I felt like it was necessary to discuss the topic that had been bothering me for a while now. I rubbed circles on his knuckles as I spoke. "You never got to see the picture they took, did you?"

"No. Why?" He looked at me warily.

"Well, it's just. . .I think you would've liked to have seen it. Before I got the picture taken and Mom and I were in line, we caught up to your mother and Kamber and Celia."

"Yeah, Mom told me that. So?"

I stopped rubbing his knuckles. "Well, we were just talking and the conversation sort of went to. . .to you. Your mom was talking about how. . .how you seemed happier lately and that she thought you'd been seeing someone. Kamber and Celia were telling me about how you hummed and sang." I was afraid to look up at his expression; his back was rigid. "And she told us about how you were saving up money lately. . .as if saving up to marry."

"America. . ."

"Let me finish." I said. "I think that, when I took my picture, I smiled brighter than I ever had in my life. And you know why? Because of the thought of _us_ being married. . .made me the happiest girl in the world." I finally looked up at him, and his expression was pained. "You have as much money as. . .well, maybe a Three. You have more than enough money in your savings to really provide for me. So why haven't you proposed? And even know that you're _all_ Threes?"

"It's hard to explain," he said after a long while. "I just. . .feel like it's not the right time. I'm waiting for that telltale feeling in my gut to tell me when the right time is. And right now it's not. You have to understand -"

"Well, I don't!" I said exasperatedly. "I just _don't_! The right time should've been a long time ago! I feel like my entire life has become a waiting game; waiting for Kamber to win or come home, waiting for your gut to 'tell you when the right time is', waiting until I'm your wife."

"Mer." He said quietly, clasping my hands. "Patience was never your talent, but you have to understand that waiting for the right time is essential. You _have_ to trust me on this one, alright?"

I blew out a breath and quashed down all my feelings of frustration and apprehension. That was one thing I could do: Trust Aspen. "Okay." I said, my voice even quieter than Aspen's. "Okay. I trust you."

* * *

3 months later

Aspen breathed in the scent of my hair, which was bathed in the pale light of the full moon. "America, I don't know how to tell you this." He broke the drawn-out silence.

I straightened up and looked at him, a bit agitated at him. "And you're willing to ruin this perfect moment to tell me _what_ , exactly?"

"I'm going away for a few days." He told me.

"What? Why?"

"It's just Kamber and Kriss now in the competition, America. They're in the final two, and Prince Maxon will announce his engagement in two days. I'm leaving tomorrow to the palace. All of us are."

"Oh." Sometimes it was easy to forget just how far Kamber had made it into the competition. The vast majority of the lower castes were rooting for her, but the upper castes were Team Kriss as well as some percentage of the lower castes. "Well, I. . ."

He held my hands and forced me to look at him. His green eyes were dark with intensity. "America. Remember three months ago when you asked me why I hadn't proposed and that it hadn't felt like the right time?" I nodded weakly. "You trusted me. And now that Kamber's made it to the final two. . .I want to say a few things."

I gasped. "America Singer, since the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew I had to find a way to make you _mine._ Every time I look at you, it's like falling in love with you all over again, and I'm all too willing to fall in love with you for the rest of my life.

"I want us to be Twos together. I want to watch our red-haired, green-eyed children grow up with _you_ and you only. You stole my heart the moment I locked eyes with you, and I intend to keep it that way." He took out a ring, a ring with a heart and two hands encasing the heart with one of their own. It was smooth and gold and absolutely perfect. "Will you be mine forever?"

 _Oh my God_ , was all I could think. Then I captured his lips with my own. "Without a doubt, Aspen Leger. Without a doubt."

* * *

I smiled at Aspen one last time in front of my and his entire family, seeing him off at the airport. I pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and let go much sooner than either of us would have liked. But it would have to do until Saturday, when he was coming back. "Stay safe, Aspen. I love you."

He smiled. "I'll see you in a few days, Mer. I love you, too."

And he left.

May was squealing and jumping up and down, being the hopeless romantic she was. "Aww, you guys are so cute together!"

"Oh, hush, May," I said playfully. "Just wait till _you_ get a boyfriend."

She squealed again and Mom bumped my shoulder. "So. You and Aspen, huh?" I had never imagined my mother being so giddy about my engagement. The way things were just a few short months ago, she'd give me absolute hell for choosing someone a caste below me. And now he happened to be three castes _above_ me.

I laughed. "Yes, Mom. Me and Aspen."

"Good choice, too. I'd always thought Lena's boy was great, and now he's a _Two_! I always thought your tastes were so bad you'd marry a Seven or something."

"Wow, Mom, glad to know that you think so highly of me," I said sarcastically.

"Oh, Ames, you're my daughter. Can't _ever_ think low of you," she said breezily, avoiding the bait.

 _Oh, could she ever._

...

The next night we were crowded in the living room, May squeezing the life out of my hand. "Maxon's gonna choose Kamber, I just _know_ it!" she crowed.

If I was being honest, I agreed with May. Not that there was anything wrong with Kriss, she just didn't click with Maxon the way Kamber and he did. May stuffed her mouth with popcorn before the _Report_ had even started.

But once it did, we all settled down and May squeezed my hand impossibly tighter, so tight it felt like she was cutting off my circulation. Yet I couldn't bother to tell her to stop. I rubbed my thumb unconsciously over my wedding band as the cameras rolled.

For once, the king and queen of Illéa were not the centerpiece of the room. Maxon, Kamber, and Kriss were all seated on a slightly raised platform at an ornate table. Kamber was on his right and Kriss on his left. Others crowded the Great Room, such as the king and queen, the previously eliminated Selected, and the families of the final two.

Maxon smiled brightly. "Good evening, Illéa. Tonight is the night we have all been anticipating, and it is finally here. I am happy to announce that I have successfully chosen a bride, and another generation of Schreaves have been successful through a Selection!" There was a round of applause before Maxon continued. "Now I won't draw this out, and after I announce my proposal, we will look at some of the highlights and never-before seen footage of the Selection and interviews with some of our favorite women."

He turned to Kamber. "Kamber Leger, never did I think you'd find a way to burrow into my heart the way you did that first night when you lectured me about giving you the last flower. And true to my word, here it is." He produced a rose from his breast pocket.

Suddenly there were gunshots through the television. Gerad, poor thing, yelled out loud and my eyes widened in shock. "Long live Prince Maxon!" There were horrific screams all around as gunshots ricocheted off the walls, and suddenly one bullet hit Kamber Leger squarely in the chest.

The cameras shut off.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry this was left off on such a sour note *cringes*. But on a lighter note, I felt it was necessary for the time-skip so we could get straight to the next Selection. It would be boring to draw it out.**

 **Till next time, then, lovely readers,**

 **Red.**


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: Some of you were upset with the way things went in the last chapter, and I'm sorry! It had to happen the way it did. All part of the plot. But I assure you that Maxon and America will get their happily ever after. Eventually.**

 **Hope you enjoy.**

Chapter 5

 **6 months later**

"America, sweetheart, you have to eat something," Mom said desperately, pushing my plate closer to me.

I shook my head, staring at the wall in front of me. "Here, Gerad, you can have it." My voice sounded hollow.

My sweet little brother peered up at me through his brown eyes. "But - but you need it more," he protested.

"What about you, May? I know you love seconds." I offered.

"I can't, Ames," she said. "Look at you - you look like a skeleton! You need it!"

Well, the truth was, I couldn't either.

All of them were dead. Aspen, his mother, Kamber, Celia. . .all of them. Killed by stark-raving mad rebels who thought it was a mistake for the prince to marry her. I could tell my family was grieving over their loss, too, but it wasn't a shred compared to what I felt. Nothing was the same without them - Aspen, especially.

 _We were supposed to be married by now_.

Now I could hardly do anything right. The violin seemed to screech horribly in my ears, the piano sounded like it was sick when I played it, my voice sounded wrong when I sang. I could hardly eat anymore - food made me sick. It would remind me of when I would bring Aspen little leftovers.

Finally Dad spoke up. "Please, kitten, we're so worried about you. May's right - you look like a skeleton. Please just try."

It pained me to know that I was the cause of their worry, that they had to treat me like I was something made out of glass or I would break. I finally picked up my spoon, and picked up a few grains of corn reluctantly. I put them in my mouth, and they tasted strange in my metallic mouth as I chewed and swallowed.

That was enough. If I ate anything more it would all come back up, along with bile and stomach acids. I couldn't take it anymore - the staring of my family as they watched my every move, the plate of food in front of me, taunting me. I just needed to be alone.

The chair scraped on the floor as I pushed it out of the table and ran to my room, slamming the door behind me. I plopped onto bed, and hugged a pillow to my chest. I'd cried enough to last two lifetimes - I was done crying. I just stared up at the ceiling letting the heartache overcome me.

* * *

1 1/2 years later

 **Maxon**

Twenty five minutes before the _Report_. I sighed and rubbed the ever-present creases on my forehead, sticking my arms out as my butler dressed me for the night. Once he was done, the hair and makeup team overtook me, primping me unnecessarily.

I waved them off, legs feeling like lead as I walked along. I was dreading this night more than any other in my life.

A week ago my father had announced an ongoing battle with brain cancer. The life seemed to be draining out of him rapidly - he could barely walk, looked sickly skinny, he was eighty five percent blind, his hair gray, wrinkles littering his face. He was soon resigning his position as king, leaving me to be the primary ruler of Illéa.

He had a few months to live, at the very best.

And of course I couldn't very well rise up to the throne without a queen to rule beside me. I refused to be betrothed to any foreign princess, which naturally left only one option - the Selection. Another one.

Two years ago, when I was naïve and stupid, I thought I'd rightfully found my true bride and the love of my life - Kamber Leger. It took me so long, longer than should be necessary, to realize that maybe we were never meant to be. A Six and a One - how could that _ever_ work out? I'd loved her recklessly and without real reason, believing we were meant to be forever.

But if we were, shouldn't we be together this moment? Shouldn't I have died with her?

For weeks I had grieved for my lost love, alone in my room, refusing help. But a harsh caning and even harsher words from my father later, I had to pick myself up by the bootstraps and get going. I had to push all the pain I was feeling aside and continue my duties as prince. I'd had to pick up after a mess that I'd never made.

Now it was time to announce my second Selection, and I was absolutely dreading it. What if I found another woman, someone I loved just like I loved Kamber, and she ended up being killed just like Kamber? I could never live with myself if another family died because of _me_.

I had never admired my father. Of course I loved him, but in a different way than most sons loved their fathers. I loved him only because he was the reason I was here. Not because I wanted to be just like him when I was older, not because he gave me everything I wanted, not because he was a man to admire. But when he announced his cancer, I couldn't deny his final request to me.

He loved me. He wanted me to live a happy life, to find a woman who would love me the way I loved her. He never showed it because he had to put on this tough-guy image for his country. He had to teach me wrong from right - and he had.

I was still dreading it. Dreading it more than anything in my life.

I sat at my throne, watching as my mother took my father's hand in both of hers and warmed it up, offering him a smile. They really did love each other - that much I knew.

I adjusted my suffocating tie. Tonight I would be starting out the _Report_ \- not that Dad ever did anymore. He was too weak to stand for more than a few minutes at a time anymore, so mostly his close advisers did the announcements for him.

"We're live in ten," the floor director announced.

Quickly, I composed myself and put a pleasant smile on my face, though I knew it didn't reach my eyes. The cameras started rolling, and I stood. "Good evening, Illéa," I said calmly, though I was an absolute mess on the inside. "Tonight I have a special announcement to make.

"As you all know, we are all devastated that my father and your King is battling with stage-two brain cancer. May peace always live in his heart." I paused. "That being said, it means that my coronation will be brought on sooner than we intended. But of course I could never achieve being a king without having a Queen to rule by my side. So tonight I announce that I am hosting another Selection. Forms are being sent out as we speak, and hurry in - we want the ladies to be in as soon as possible to ensure their absolute safety - I won't make the mistake of keeping them vulnerable to rebel attacks this time. So I have decided that I will be hosting my Selection, not in the palace, but in my summer vacation home.

"Contestants will be announced next Friday, so the deadline will be made next week Thursday at five p.m. Hopefully, we can have all our ladies settled in by a week and a half. Good luck to all of you."

I smiled and sat back down in my chair, relieved.

I just had to hope and pray to God that this would be successful.

* * *

 **America**

"Please, honey?" Mom pleaded with me.

I may have cracked last time, but this time I was not. I was too broken to even take the chance. "No," I said firmly.

May walked sullenly into my room. These walls were thin - no doubt anyone could hear our ongoing argument. Whereas she usually had a skip in her step and her words came out melodic, this time she walked flatly and her voice was just as flat.

She sat down on the bed beside me. "Please, Ames?" She held my hand. "I miss my sister. I miss everything about her - how she used to sing me to sleep when I had nightmares, how she would give up her food just so I could have a little more, how she would teach me to play the piano. We all miss that America. We need her back. And the only way to do that is if you sign up. I know you'll get in, Ames, I _know_ you will."

Apparently it was possible for me to shed even _more_ tears. By the end, May and I were both crying, and even Mom looked teary-eyed.

How could I possibly refuse my sister? She was aching for Old Me; I would give her anything, literally anything, so she could be happy again. And if it would make her happy if I signed up, then I would.

I hugged my little sister to my chest. "Okay, May," I said quietly against her hair. "I will if it makes you happy."

Her arms were tight around me and she sighed. "Oh, America, thank you so much," she said.

I'd never thought that May could ever lose her childhood innocence. Aspen and I had started dating when I was not much older than May two years ago; I was mature by then. To me, she would always be bubbly, cheery, innocent little May. But the horrific event two years ago had hardened her.

"Of course," I said.

Mom wasn't the same anymore, either. Two years ago when I'd agreed to enter this competition, she was excited beyond words, and now all she gave me was a small, but still reassuring, smile.

Two hours later, my form was completely filled out and I was dressed in a khaki skirt and navy blouse - a new outfit I'd acquired using some of the money I'd saved up. I put on a bit of lipstick and mascara, even a little bit of blush, then combed my hair and left it framing my face. All part of the makeup set I'd also bought with my money.

Maybe if things hadn't turned out the way they had, May would've pounced on me and fawned over how beautiful I was. Then I'd tell her that I was average and to leave me alone, but still playfully. And then hug her.

When I came out of my room, May smiled. The first real smile I'd seen since. . .since. . .well, a long time. "You're so pretty, Ames," she said.

"Thank you," I said. I didn't have any strength in me left to fight back. Mom was waiting at the door with her purse, so I grabbed my form and pecked May on the cheek. "I'll be back soon." I reassured her.

Today it was overcast, the clouds blocking the sun. It didn't look like it would rain, though, so Mom and I settled for walking to the Province of Carolina Services Office to turn in my form and get my picture taken.

Now that everyone knew that they would be getting their picture taken, there was no such thing as an advantage; everyone simply knew. So now everyone was dressed up in their best clothes. This time Mom wasn't complaining about my choice of dress; she told me that if the royal family didn't like her daughter just the way she was, then screw them. It filled me with an unfamiliar warmth and I had hugged her so tight she couldn't breathe.

I noticed now that there were less girls. The Twos and Threes were okay with it - save for a few - because they knew if the prince chose them, the rebels didn't have a problem with that because they were higher up. The lower castes couldn't deny the benefits that the Selection could bring, but some were afraid knowing that the same thing that happened to poor Kamber could happen to them if Maxon chose them.

Standing there in line, it reminded me of when Mrs. Leger, Kamber, and Celia were here, in this spot, two years ago, talking about how they thought Aspen was saving up to marry someone. And that someone was _me_. It brought a fresh wave of pain to my chest, making it hard to breathe.

"America, are you okay?" Mom asked, eyeing me warily. "You look pale."

I tried to take in deep breaths and calm myself. "I'm fine," I said weakly, not even attempting at a smile. Couldn't fool her, anyways.

When it was my turn to turn in the form, I sighed. This would mean shoving away all that I had ever had with Aspen and hoping for a new future. Hoping that someday I would be able to get over him and find love again.

The question was: _Would_ I find love again? And would I even be _able_ to let said person into my heart? My very broken, scarred heart?

Maybe.

After signing a paper to confirm everything on my form was true, I sat at a stool to get my picture taken. I tried to put all the hope - hope for a new future - and all that I had into my smile.

Now I had to pray that May was right.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Leona Walsh of Columbia, a Two," Gavril announced.

 _Oh, God_.

We all watched the screen intently as the second round of Selected girls were announced. "Helena Joyce of Sota, a Four."

I held May's hand tighter and bit my lip, all my muscles coiled tightly. "Luna Waters of Atlin, a Three."

He cleared his throat as he read the next one. "America Singer of Carolina, a Five."

 _Oh, God_.

* * *

"Will that be all, miss?" my aide, Yvette, asked timidly as she put my gray bag into the trunk of what was apparently called a 'limousine'.

"Yes." I said impatiently. Unless I had said so, why _wouldn't_ it be all?

Yvette visibly flinched. I pretended not to notice as my chauffer opened the door, holding his hand out to help me in, but I waved him away and climbed in myself. I turned down all the offers of fresh fruits and cheeses and wines on the way to the airport; my stomach was already in knots.

Once we got to the airport, I quickly said, "No need to ask me if I need help; I'm perfectly fine."

He seemed amused by my behavior and I shot him a dirty look. I got out of the limousine and got my bag out of the trunk, containing my skirt and blouse for when I got eliminated, a few books, pictures of my family, the songbird necklace my father had given me years ago, and a woven bracelet May had given me.

I was the first to the airport, and had to wait for the other three girls to ride the plane with me. I anxiously bounced my leg and tapped my fingers as my eyes darted around the whole place, trying to calm myself down.

How the hell had it gotten here, to this point? It may have been two years ago, but at the time I was sure of everything, and now everything I'd ever known was wiped away from me. I wished more than anything that things could go back to the way they were.

But they couldn't, the nagging little voice in my head said. Aspen was considered a hero, but what good would it do if he was buried in the ground? Right; it would do no good.

This was my future, for better or for worse. Somehow I _had_ to find a way to forget about Aspen and move on.

Good-bye, Aspen.

About half an hour later, two girls came in. One of them had short dirty blond hair and warm brown eyes, a few inches taller than me and a bit curvier. Beside her was a much smaller girl with extremely long brunette hair and dark brown eyes. Despite her severe appearance, she looked pretty timid.

"Hello," I said politely, addressing both of them. As much as I wanted to just skip the introductions, it was part of the routine to size up your competition. "My name is -"

"You're America Singer," the blond said. "Yes, yes, I know you. It's nice to meet you." She hugged me, completely surprising me.

"And you're Layla White." I was a bit hesitant, but this girl reminded me so much of the old May, that I couldn't help but like her instantly.

I turned to the other girl, recognizing her as Tara Nelson from Allens, a respectable Four. She accepted my handshake this time, but it was short, and she avoided eye contact with me.

"You know, I never thought I'd ever get to be in a Selection," Layla said. "Last time around, I did sign up, but didn't get chosen. It all feels so surreal, right?"

"Imagine me," I said, pointing to myself. "I'm a _Five_. This must be beyond any Five's wildest dreams."

"Right!" she said. "Back home, my father's a real estate agent, and I work part-time in a café, and now I'm promoted to a Daughter of Illéa? I mean, how crazy is that?"

After that, we talked about our jobs and what we liked to do back home. I found myself liking Layla a lot. She was a really fun-loving, bright, free-spirited, sweet girl. I was in awe of her.

Tara stayed pretty quiet during the wait at the airport. I had noticed that the last girl wasn't coming, until an hour later. She came in wearing sunglasses and the Selection uniform, her hair done perfectly and bright red lipstick on her face, sashaying. Tara winced each time her three-inch heels echoed off the walls.

I recognized her as Kalian Sorenson of Clermont, a Two. Unlike the others, she wasn't smiling; she was focused, ready. This didn't bother me; I wasn't here because I _wanted_ anything. I was just progressing and going with the flow.

She finally came to a stop, and raised her sunglasses to be perched above her head. "Hello, y-you're Kalian Sorenson, right?" Marlee squeaked out.

"Y-yes, and you're Layla White, right?" Kalian's tone was mocking as she distastefully looked her up and down. "A _Four_."

I jumped in. "Just because you're all rich and think you're all that doesn't mean you can discount people because of their caste, _Kalian_ ," I spat her name out like a curse as I glared at her.

"Oh, look, the musician's here," she snapped. "Why don't you go play a violin?"

Tara watched, wide-eyed, as the tension between us grew. But as if on cue, a stout, tall man appeared through the door to our left. "I hear all four of you are here, am I correct?"

Just like that, Kalian turned her anger from me to the poor man. _Blech_. "Yes," she snapped. "Isn't it obvious?" Oh, so this was her game. Mrs. I'm-So-Intimidating. Oh, please.

He stood, speechless, for a moment, before turning back to us. "Well, then. My name is Harold Bart and I will be your captain today. So if you'd follow me, we'll get you on the plane and off to Angeles."

The plane was very inconspicuous, blending in with all the others so no one would recognize us and try to shoot us down. I found it a bit pointless, all the security measures they were taking, but I guess it was necessary to avoid something. . .tragic.

Once the plane landed, we were all flanked by guards as they led us to another limousine. My hands were shaky from the frightening landing of the plane, so I took some juice and fruit to help calm me down.

The food helped a little, so I brought out a picture of May and I sitting on the grass together, holding hands and looking up at the camera. This helped greatly. "Who's that?" Layla's voice asked beside me. I jumped. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay. This is my sister, May." I told her.

"Wow. She looks a lot like you."

"We get that a lot." I shrugged, used to it. "We're really close."

"I can tell," she said. "I have a brother who's five years older than me. We're not very close. I've always wished for a sister."

"She's not my only family," I said as I dug around the bag. I got a photo of my entire family at a quiet celebration last Christmas, one of the rare moments we were all happy. There was my whole family, save for Kota. I didn't consider him family anymore. "You already know May, and this is me. My mother's beside me and she's holding hands with my father. Beside her is my older sister Kenna with her husband James. In front of Mom is Gerad, holding hands with my niece, Kenna's daughter Astra."

"Wow." Layla said. "You have a big family, America. That's so cool."

The car came to a sudden halt, and we were in front of a giant three-story home, which I was guessing was Prince Maxon's summer vacation home. I gaped up at it; it was _huge!_ The size was nowhere near to that of the palace, which I had seen in pictures, but still, it could easily accommodate all the staff and Selected. I also noticed that we were on the beach; right now we were standing on silky-soft pristine white sands, with the sea in front of us. The water was crystal-clear and the waves were calm and serene, the breeze bringing a welcome briny scent.

In front of it was a fifty-foot tall wrought-iron gate with barbed wire on top and guards smattered around. The guard nearest to the gate punched in a code to a keypad situated on the door. The hinges gave way and opened as they led us inside.

A woman had me by the arm instantly. "Lady America, is it?" she asked. I nodded, unable to say anything back.

The dining room was to the right, the Great Room to the left. A greenhouse was off to the side, connected to the building but not really part of it. It was huge and filled with all kinds of flowers and plants. That was it before she pulled me into a chaotic room filled with bustling people.

I was sat on a stool and they took a 'before' picture. Then a woman named Silvia, who I'd spoken to on the phone, spoke to me briefly before I was taken to station six to be primped and pampered.

My hair is washed, conditioned, and a few inches are cut to make layers, but otherwise left alone. My skin and nails are buffed and polished and every body hair waxed off. My makeup was kept light, to play up all my 'natural highlights' or so my stylists said. It ended with a teal full-skirt dress and aqua nail polish on my nails and toenails to go with the dress.

The Selection this year was being kept low-key so as not to stir up too much rebel activity, so unlike last year cameras were not lurking at every corner waiting to catch a good shot. Only _Reports_ would be kept the same.

We sat at a couch when we were done, and only Layla and a few others were done. I sat beside her, and she pounced on me. "You look fantastic!" she said.

I smiled. If anything, I was average. "Thanks, Lay. But look at you; your hair!"

She patted down her hair, which was now waist-length instead of chin-length. "Yeah, my parents always forced me to have short hair, but now I can do whatever the hell I want with it." I laughed.

When everyone sat down, Silvia was talking about our schedule for the rest of the day, when she turned and her breath was literally taken. "Oh, my," she said as she sank into a deep curtsy.

We all turned to see what all the commotion was about, and we all gasped when we saw the King and Queen of Illéa _right before us_ , hand in hand. They walked slowly, as the queen had to lead the king slowly and support most of his weight.

"Hello, ladies," King Clarkson said. "I know I didn't do this last time around, but I know my son's wife is somewhere here, and I may die before I get to see my future daughter. So before my death, I would like to meet all of you personally and get to know all of you before my time runs out."

We were all awed beyond words; the frickin' King and Queen were right in front of us! I felt honored, and a bit stunned. May would be _so_ jealous.

The first girl in line, Bonnie Jackson, got up and stumbled into a curtsy. "Honor to meet you," she murmured. All of us get up and curtsy in front of them as well and stand side-by-side as they fluttered down the line, talking to the girls for a few minutes and exchanging a hug or a kiss on the cheek before they moved on.

When Queen Amberly reaches me, she pulls me into a hug and I almost collapsed. "Lovely to meet you Miss America, you're much prettier than the pictures give you credit for." She whispered.

I looked at her, with her serene smile and lovely face. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Queen Amberly," I said. "You are much prettier in person as well."

She laughed a tinkling, melodic laugh. "We're so excited to have you here, America," she said. "But I can't speak to you much longer; my husband is eager to get to meet all of you."

I shake her hand once more and tell her again what an honor it is to meet her before King Clarkson grabs my hand, fumbling a bit before reaching it, and kissing it. _Whoa_. I had always known the king to be a cold, distant man, a very strict ruler, but here he was kissing _my_ hand.

"America, is it?" he said. "I'm almost blind right now, but I can see you have hair like fire. I hope that means you'll be a headstrong ruler."

I blushed. "Th-thanks, sir," I stuttered out. "It's such an honor to get to meet you."

"Likewise, miss," he replied. "So, tell me, how does it feel to be here?"

"It's. . .almost like a dream," I said quietly. "Like a fairy tale."

"Ah, yes. You're one of two Fives in this competition." Thankfully, he didn't sound it out to be an insult, just a statement. "Well, my dear, it was great to meet you, but I must move on. Good luck."

"Thank you," I said, and curtsied once more before he moved on.

I breathed out a sigh of relief and sat down.

Once the introductions were over with, we were escorted to our rooms. "The décor is very demure," Silvia said as she walked, her voice almost as rapid as her clicking heels, "So should you want to change it up, you can just ask your maids."

One by one, the girls were dropped off at their rooms to get settled down a bit before dinner. Layla's room was in front of mine, much to our joy, and we were one of the last ones to be shown to our rooms.

 _Wow_. Was all I could think as I took in what was now my room.

Warm, golden-colored wooden floors throughout the entire room, which was huge by the way. There was a king-sized bed with cream-colored sheets and lilac throw pillows and a comforter. There was a nightstand, a dresser, a desk, a bookshelf, a sofa, even a fireplace, and a walk-in closet. All for me.

And then, of course, were my maids. They all curtsied one by one. My head maid was Marlee, a pretty dark-blond haired girl who didn't look much older than me. My helping maids were Elaine and Amber, at my service.

"Hello," I said. "My name's America."

"We know, miss," Marlee said brightly. "We're honored to be your maids; what may we do for you?"

I looked around, coming up blank. "When's dinner?" I asked.

"Seven-thirty sharp every evening," Marlee said. "Right now it is nearly six."

Oh. So I had an hour and a half before dinner. I was surprised; usually by this time at home I'd be helping Mom make dinner. I was so used to this that all this freedom was confusing me. So I hesitantly dropped my lone bag and climbed up on the bed, and gave a little moan of appreciation. This bed was softer than a marshmallow!

My maids chuckled. "When I leave, the only two things I'll miss are this bed and Layla." I said.

" _When_ you leave?" Marlee said. "What do you mean by that?"

"I just don't think I'll make it too far. I don't match up to all the other girls."

"Nonsense," Marlee said. "You may be a Five but caste never matters to a prince. At least, a prince who isn't a total jackass." I burst out laughing at that.

"Listen, do you think the guards would let me have a walk? At least into the greenhouse?" I asked. It had been an emotionally draining day, and all I needed was some fresh air. I knew that I would never be granted permission to go out into the open, but the greenhouse would work.

Marlee shrugged. "You never know if you don't try."

I smiled. "You're awesome," I said.

I flounced out of the room, telling them to do whatever they pleased while I was gone, and walked to the green room. A stoic tanned guard stood there. _Of course_. "Excuse me, but am I allowed in there?" I asked. "I'd just like a few minutes of fresh air."

He contemplated for a few minutes. "Okay. But don't be too long."

I nodded and walked in, admiring the beauty of all the vibrantly-colored plants and flowers all around. It was refreshing to get some real air into my system.

Only a few minutes later, though, the door opened again and in came none other than the prince.

 _Crap._ I thought. _Just my luck_.

We just stood there for a few moments before he was like, "Are you alright, my dear?"

"I'm not your 'dear'," I snapped. "And I am perfectly fine. Just getting some air, if you must know."

"Sorry," he said, putting his hands up.

"I think I should go." But I made no move to leave.

"You're America Singer, right?" he asked curiously.

"Mhmm," I said, as if it should be obvious. Which it should. "And you are Prince Maxon Schreave, am I correct?"

"Quite," he said, a bit sadly. I scrunched my nose.

"Did you just say 'quite'?" I asked. I thought only people in movies said that. "I must be dreaming."

"This is very real, my -" I gave him a look and he stopped himself before saying the D-word. "My lady," he quickly corrected. "I just wish I knew that this was real and she was here." The last part came out really sad.

"Sorry," I said awkwardly. "But she. . .she is here." I wasn't good with emotions, period.

He smiled wistfully. "Sure. You should probably get back to your room, now, my-my lady -"

"Excuse me," I said a bit harshly. "Just so you know, I am not your 'lady' or your 'dear'. I refuse to be called that. I know I am one of thirty-five girlfriends, but it makes me uncomfortable to know that you have 35 'dears'. I cannot be one of them."

"As-as you wish," he said, sounding a bit stunned.

"I'll go now," I said quietly, before turning and leaving, leaving the prince standing there all by himself.

I rushed back to my room, almost running in my heels and wondering what the hell just happened back there. I told off the prince. . .I really did! Oh, crap, now I was going home. Tomorrow the prince was sending me home.

Back in my room, my maids noticed how frazzled I looked. Thankfully, bless them, they didn't ask about it and offered me a soothing bath instead. I couldn't turn the offer down. I had to get my mind off things.

My maids ended up having to cut my bath short, to get me ready for dinner. They put me in a short cream-colored dress and white heels, and put my hair into a crown braid. Marlee gave me an encouraging smile as I went to the dining room.

Layla caught my eye and she waved me over. I sat down beside her and we chattered as the other girls filed in, but were cut short by meticulously-dressed waiters with our dinner.

I was amazed. When the domed platter was opened, I was met with grilled pork tenderloin, asparagus, and mashed potatoes. Literally the best food I'd ever tasted. But I had to turn down wine and was disappointed when I was too full to eat dessert.

I went back to my room and allowed my maids to dress me. I crashed into bed and was asleep within seconds.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Despite how soft my bed was, it couldn't fend off the nightmares that came.

All I could see was blood everywhere, haunting screams and the crack of guns filling my ears, and Aspen. . .Aspen dying over and over again. And I was running to him, but it was like I couldn't gain any ground no matter how fast I pounded my feet on the floor.

When I woke up my cheeks and the pillows were stained with tears, the ache in my heart feeling fresh and raw. I was going to meet the prince officially today, and I was really hoping he'd eliminate me. All I needed right now was the comfort of my family. I needed to get out of this suffocating golden cage. It was proving to be too much for me to handle.

I checked the clock, which read just past five in the morning. I flopped back in bed, knowing there was no way I'd be able to go back to sleep.

Feeling hopeless, I threw the sheets back and got out of bed. In front of me were French doors leading to a balcony. I reached for a robe and slippers and threw open the French doors, gulping in the fresh air. I sat on a chair, hugging my knees to my chest and crying softly.

I watched as the sun rose slowly, the sky changing colors, but I stayed still even after my muscles got stiff. At some point, I heard the door to my room opening, probably my maids or something like that.

"Miss?" someone called out.

Yes, my maids. I sighed and slowly pulled myself out of the position, flexing my muscles. Marlee gasped as she took me in. I blinked. "Would you like us to run you a bath?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I don't care."

She looked confused. I blinked again, and she curtsied and ran off. My eyes fell on her hands as they gripped the hem of her maid's dress, noticing the angry pink scars on the back of them. Wondering what kind of pain she'd gone through, but never asking.

They undressed me and eased me into the warm water. I refused to let them bathe me - I was not a damsel in distress, I could bathe myself without assistance. But it went without saying that they had to dress me.

It was simple enough. The straps were thin, the dress itself was an aqua color with a full skirt ending at my knees, and aqua kitten heels to match. I let them put my hair in a braid. "Would you like some makeup to cover up your under-eye circles, miss?" Marlee asked.

"No!" I exclaimed too quickly. The half-moons under my eyes were a sign that something was wrong, and if the prince didn't like that, then so damn him. I didn't care. I wanted to go back home. They looked at me, aghast, so I quickly backpedaled in a much gentler voice. "Just leave it be, please."

They nodded. I thanked them for helping me get ready, and went down to the first floor for breakfast.

Layla waved me over. I sat beside her absently picking at the French toast with a scoop of butter and hash browns. "Are you okay?" she asked me. "I would've thought that on a bed so soft, anyone could sleep well."

"Nightmares," I muttered. "I guess I'm just missing home."

"I don't understand," Layla said. "Why? This is, like, living the dream so many girls have, and you're having nightmares?" Her tone was teasing, but I could see she was genuinely confused.

I shrugged. "I'm just not used to it yet. I miss my family."

I was quiet throughout breakfast, and so was she. But only for a few moments. Instead, she turned to some other girl and talked to her, completely ignoring me. That was good. I wanted to be left alone more than anything right now.

Just as I was about to get up and go back to my room, the prince rose. "Good morning, ladies." Immediately the eyes of all of them latched onto him. He cleared his throat, looking a little uncomfortable. I rolled my eyes, willing for him to get on with it. "I wanted you all to enjoy your breakfasts before I made this announcement, so here it goes: Today, immediately after you finish, I'd like you all to sit on the couch on the hall to the left and get to you know you all a little bit. I hope you're settling in well."

My shoulders slumped. There went my quiet morning in my room.

I pushed my chair back, along with several other eager girls.

Let's get this over with.

* * *

 **Maxon**

My father sighed beside me as he cut into his French toast. I stiffened. What would he say about my poor social skills now. "That was disappointing, son," he said, shaking his head. "Unimpressive. Just as I expected from you."

Well, that much was obvious.

I left the table once all the girls were gone, smiling at my mother as she gave me a 'good-luck' wink. She seemed to be the only one who believed in me anymore. I could feel my father's gaze boring a hole into my retreating figure.

I rubbed my forehead, feeling butterflies fluttering in my stomach. No, not butterflies. Butterflies were too gentle to be what I was feeling. More like a swarm of bees.

In that room was my future wife. Or so I hoped.

I forcefully turned up the corners of my mouth into what I hoped was a convincing smile for the girls. Father had told me that he wanted me to eliminate all the lower castes immediately. I'd looked at the girls' forms, to at least memorize their names.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the first girl. Mercedes Webster - yes, I knew her. She was a Two from Paloma. "Lady Mercedes." I bowed and took her hand and led her into a room. She blushed madly.

She sat on the couch beside me and smiled. What should be my technique? Be myself, or be something I wasn't? I decided to just be myself. "Good morning, Lady Mercedes," I started. I stuck out a hand for her to shake.

"Please, call me Mercedes," she squeaked, taking my hand and shaking it vigorously. "It's so nice to finally meet you, Your Majesty."

"If I'm going to be calling you Mercedes, then you're going to have to call me Maxon," I told her in a teasing voice.

"Oh. Well, then _Maxon_ ," she said. "It's really an honor to get to meet you."

Mercedes was nice, if a bit plain and average. But I knew I'd have to keep her for appearances.

Next up was Logan Nash. She stuttered and stumbled over her words and blushed a lot. I shook my head. She was off the list. After Logan, was Leslie Raine. She was absolutely full of herself, so she was off, too.

After Leslie, was Indiana Herder, a Five. She professed her love to me after throwing herself against me and hugging me. She kept on touching me, on my hands, on my arms, even my thighs. She was a goner.

And then was the one and only Lady America Singer. The fiery redhead was intriguing and certainly had a temper. I knew I had to keep her, and damn it if my father was unhappy. This was _my_ Selection, and _my_ future wife. These were my decisions to make, not his.

But I noticed she had almost bruise-like under-eye circles, and had made no attempt to conceal them. Her blue eyes were icy, and full of sorrow. It saddened me. "Lady America," I said.

She sighed, and turned to follow me. She sat beside me, crossing her arms and ignoring my outstretched hand. It kind of amused me. "So, Lady America. What is your motive? To be here, I mean?"

"I'm a Five," she said outright. "My family is poor and they need the money. My jerk older brother Kota, he's famous and lives for the money. But he never shares it with us, that selfish pig. So it's now up to me."

"I'd have thought that now that you were in the palace, you slept better," I said.

She shot me a glare. "Nightmares are hardly something to smile about, Your Majesty," she snapped. "I didn't cover my dark circles because I wanted to show the _real_ me. I don't want you keeping me here because of pounds of makeup on my face."

"Interesting," I mused. "I like that."

"Look, Your Highness -"

"I insist you call me Maxon," I interrupted.

She huffed. "Look, Maxon, I'm not here because I love you and I want to marry you and become the next queen of Illéa. I'm not a quitter, so I'm not out of this competition yet. And though I'd like to go home, I know my family desperately needs the money. So I'd like to make myself of some use."

I remembered Kamber. She was very much different from America. She was always happy, sweet, and loved to talk and be around people. She was also very beautiful. America had a temper as fiery as her hair, and she was also beautiful, but in a more sharp, rugged way.

"Okay." I nodded. "It would actually be nice to have a friend around here. I haven't had any friends since -" I stopped.

Princess Daphne of France. Well, now _Queen_ Daphne. She was now married to her betrothed, King Frederick. We'd been friends for a long time, until the night of my nineteenth birthday, when the Selection was to be announced the next week. She told me she loved me, but I rejected her - I was so pathetic. And she left me.

"Friend." America tasted the word on her tongue. "No, not friend. Maybe more like. . .your confidante. I'll give you advice on how to date, how to get closer to the girl you like - anything."

"That sounds good." I checked the clock. "Oh. Sorry, but the interview's been running a bit long. You may go."

She chuckled. "That's not the way to say it, Maxon. You really need to learn how to woo a woman correctly."

"I've never been good at this. And you're here to _kindly_ guide me," I reminded her. "Right?"

"Sure," she agreed.

I winked at her. "Is that good?"

She shook her head. "It looks like you have something in your eye. Skip the winking, alright? When you try too hard, it's worse than when you don't try."

"Well, then, Lady America. It was nice to make a new confidante of you." This time she shook my hand, but let go much too quickly to be appropriate. "Until next time."

She nodded and left.

I had a growing list of girls who weren't right for me. None of them just _clicked_. Still, I was dreading how I would tell them they were leaving.

After the interviewing was done, came the tough stuff. I had ten girls on my list - Bevin Morta, Roseanne Platt, Eowyn Clerk, Kalian Sorenson (I was worried about her - Father would _kill_ me for eliminating a Two), Modena Yar, Logan Nash, Layla White, Laken Torell, Charlotte Troine, and Viveca Watt.

It felt as if this would take forever. Ten girls down, and still 25 here. Well, off to a good start.

I had asked them to stay behind while the rest of the girls were free to go to the Women's Room for their first lesson with Silvia. I tried to smile. Several smiled back radiantly, expectantly.

 _Just spit it out._ "I won't draw this out, ladies," I began. "If I asked you to stay behind, it means that you have not made the cut. I'm very sorry." Kalian instantly went tomato red in her anger.

Viveca glared at me. "I hope you find your wife." She spat. Then she ran out.

That made two of us.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

When I came back into my room, my ears were attacked by the unmistakable squeal of Marlee as she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me. "You're still here!" she sang. "You made it!"

I couldn't help but be in tune with her enthusiasm. "Yes, I made it," I said.

"I knew it. I knew the prince would like you." She shook her head. "I think he needs someone with your exact personality to balance out his quiet, collected personality."

"Maybe." I hedged hesitantly. She just smiled and winked at me as if she knew something I didn't.

I grabbed my bag that I'd taken with me containing my few prized possessions, and spent a while just staring at the picture I'd shown Layla of my family. We all were captured in a rare moment of happiness; we hardly had those anymore.

During that Christmas, Kota-the-Jerk came to visit us, along with Kenna, her husband James, and little Astra. Kota had brought home one of his sculptures, announcing proudly that he would be putting it up for auction the next day. He boasted all about his money, until Astra came up behind him with a handful of pie in her hand and smashed it in his face. We all laughed, and forced Kota to take the picture since we didn't want him in the picture. I smiled at the memory.

"Miss?" I looked up in surprise. There, standing, was Amber holding the door open for the prince.

I quickly stuffed the picture back in the bag and hid it under my bed before standing and curtsying. I told my maids to step out for a moment to see what the prince needed. "Hi," I said. "Come to me for advice already?"

"I've already eliminated ten girls," he stated. "To make up for it, I need to take someone out on a date."

"You've got twenty four choices. Plenty." I said. "Who do you like?"

"Uh...Gosh, why am I so terrible at this?" He smacked his hand to his forehead. "I've done this once before, and it still doesn't make me any less clueless about girls. I'm terrible at dating."

"Well, that's what I'm here for. To guide you patiently." I said teasingly. "Now, speak up: who do you like?"

"That's the thing - the interviews were too short for me to find out who I like," he scratched his head. "Maybe. . .Luna Waters? She seems. . .nice."

I cracked a smile. Yes, he really was clueless. "You've got to do better than that," I snorted. "But, that's a start, I guess. Any ideas?"

"In my last Selection, I took this girl, Emmica, who was kind of like Luna, to the movie theater."

"How'd that work out?" I asked.

He blushed. "Well, um. . .She chose out this really romantic movie and tried to kiss me at the end."

"You should use those experiences to learn from your mistakes." I shook my head. "Try something totally different. Do you have a shooting range?"

He nodded. But then his face lit up. "I got it!" he said. I looked at him with a 'go on' look. "I could take you out on a date!"

"Excuse me?" I visibly recoiled. "Why me?"

"For appearances." He said simply. "It works."

"I guess you could call it a trial date." He blinked. I sighed and explained. "I'll test out your dating skills. Plan a date for tonight, and I can't help you out for this one. I'll see how you do."

"Wait, but -"

"Nope." I said. "Sorry. Lips are sealed." I towed him out of the room. "Put all your skills to use, and hopefully you'll make a great boyfriend." I closed the door on him. My maids came back in, trying to hide giggles. I narrowed my eyes. "You naughty girls! You were spying on us, weren't you!"

"We couldn't help it, miss." Elaine said. "We're too curious for our own good."

"You got that right." I said.

After that, they got me ready for lunch, and I wondered what Maxon had planned for me. I wondered if he would take me to the shooting range, maybe take me horseback riding, or to the theater, or a simple dinner date. I wondered if they had a skating rink or maybe a pool. I'd never been to a pool. Only Threes and Twos were allowed in pools.

I thanked my maids and went out to the dining hall. I was still pretty full from breakfast this morning, so I only picked at my food, thinking over various scenarios of my date with Maxon.

I went back to my room shortly after and read one of the few books I'd taken here, before braving the dining hall once again for dinner. As I stabbed into my steak and potatoes, I thought.

Layla left today. But before that, she'd given me the cold shoulder this morning. And after that, no one talked to me, not even my fellow Five, Annika. She refused to talk to me, so I was left to brood over my own dinner. Whatever. I wasn't even here to make friends. On the contrary, all I wanted was to go home to my family. At least they accepted me for who I was.

I went back to my room shortly after. Maxon didn't come, so I gave my maids the go-ahead to get me ready for bed. They took off the little makeup I had on, took my hair down, and changed me into my nightgown...when I heard a knock on my door.

Marlee opened it quickly to reveal Maxon still looking sharp in his suit. I internally cursed him. Why now, when I was almost ready for bed? Couldn't he have picked a better time?

Apparently not.

My lip twitched, but I motioned for Elaine to stop brushing my hair. I curtsied. "Hello, Maxon. Ready for our date?"

"Sorry I'm so late." He fidgeted. "The date took quite a while to prepare."

"Oh. I'm excited to see what you have in mind." I kept my voice cool, but was feeling pretty pissed at him right about now. Marlee gave me my slippers without a word, and Amber handed me a robe.

 _This is so embarrassing,_ I thought. These nightgowns were too thin to be considered modest. Maxon led me by the arm to a random door; there were many of these around here. When he opened it, he revealed a curving marble staircase. I gave him a questioning look, but he only smiled and led me up.

When we got to the top, there was a little door on the ceiling. He opened it, to reveal the rooftop of the palace. But I was unimpressed. There was a thick blanket of clouds blocking out the stars. _How romantic,_ I thought sarcastically.

He led me up onto the roof and revealed a small circular table with two chairs, a cart beside it, and a candle in the middle of the table. "How original," I muttered as I looked at the cart piled with desserts.

"What was that?" Maxon asked.

"Nothing." I smiled at him sweetly. I grabbed a plate and loaded it with one of each of the desserts, then sat down.

"I know you're made at me." He began.

"Oh, is it so obvious?" I grumbled.

"Care to tell me why?"

"Maybe because you could've picked a better time. Maybe one where I was _decent_." I spat the word 'decent'. He flinched.

"I didn't know it would be such a problem."

"Well, it is!" I said. "You're lucky this was me you're taking out on a date. Because if it had been Luna Waters or another one of your _tramps_ , they would've gossiped about it in the Women's Room and therefore all thought you were an indecent gentleman."

He said nothing for a while. "My girls are not tramps," he said quietly.

I harrumphed. "Sure."

"America, you're lucky I'm not my father." He erupted suddenly. "Because had it been my father, you would've already been eliminated. I've let your unreasonable behavior slide one too many times. Need I remind you that I'm the crown prince of Illéa? I can punish you for your behavior, you know."

"Maybe I _want_ to be eliminated!" I threw my hands up. "And if you wanted to punish me, I'm sure you already would have! Why don't you tie me to a post and set me on fire? Or maybe throw me in a jungle so I can slowly shrivel up and die? Possibly execute me?" My voice was harsh.

"America -" His voice was frantic.

"No. I think I get it. Don't worry, Maxon, I have my outfit for my elimination planned out. I don't carry too much baggage." I got up, wrapping the robe around me as the temperature got cooler.

"No, it's not like that, America!" He said frustratedly.

"I'm sorry to have offended you or caused you trouble, Your Highness." I curtsied. "Thank you for having me here. I won't be a bother to you anymore."

I wrenched open the door and fell through, ignoring the pain in my shoulder. I rushed down the stairs, as flashes of Aspen's face, and then Maxon's face, played on a loop inside my head.

I felt terrible. Aspen's face was getting fuzzier, as were the memories that came along with him. I was forgetting how it felt to kiss him, how it felt for him to touch me, even for how we argued! What did that say about me?

All I wanted was to go home. I felt hollow inside; being home would help fill out that hollowness a little.

I scurried back to my room with tears in my eyes. I slammed the door to my room and ordered my maids out, wrenching off my robe and slippers and crawling into bed.

* * *

 **Maxon POV**

"Son?" Father said as he came into my office.

"Yes, Father?"

He took a seat. "I see you've eliminated ten girls."

"Yes, I have."

"Care to explain _why_ you eliminated a _Two_ , a very wealthy, beautiful Two, and you kept the Five? How long will it take you to understand that that won't work? It will all end up how it did with Kamber."

That was a blow. But I didn't let it show. "Shouldn't you be resting, Father? Rest is good for cancer."

"I will live to see the day you marry a decent girl," he wheezed, and put a hand to his chest.

"America Singer is a decent girl, if that's what you mean," I said. "Caste doesn't matter. _You_ married a Four."

"She was a rare one," he defended.

"Exactly. America is a 'rare one'. I will marry whoever I want, Father. You can't keep controlling me; I'm twenty one. It's time you let me start making my own decisions." My tone was icy, hiding the true fear I felt underneath.

"I am your father. You will not talk to me that way. And you will see reason someday." With that, he walked off.

It was now past midnight and I was doing work I'd been putting off for a while now. It was helping to distract me from certain thoughts.

But when I ran out of work at half past one a.m., I couldn't put off the thoughts any longer.

She was genuine. She treated me like she would a normal person, not like some others; they stuttered and stumbled over their words just because I was the prince. But there was also a temperamental problem. I could also detect a hint of sadness in her eyes, as if she'd experienced something sad and hadn't gotten over it.

She didn't want to be here. She wanted to leave. But _I_ didn't want her to, I realized.

So I got it. I'd just beg for her to stay.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

 **America**

The silky-soft feel of the nightgowns on my skin was too much. I felt I didn't deserve this - any of this. I was feeling extremely overwhelmed right now; I just wanted to go home. I may have been a Five, and this may have been every Five's dream, but the comforts of home and family beat the luxuries of the Schreave summer home hands-down. Not like the prince or the girls really liked me anyways. I looked forward to the moment Maxon announced I was eliminated. May and Mom would probably be disappointed but glad to see me. Dad and Gerad wouldn't care; they would be proud anyways. I could already feel their hands wrapped around me in a comforting hug. _Home_. The thought sounded so appealing right now.

So I slept only in the bare essentials. Actually, let me reword that. I tossed and turned on the too-soft bed in bare essentials.

Finally, it came to be too much. Getting up, I slipped on the going-away outfit I'd planned and turned on the lamp on the nightstand. Under the dim lamplight, I studied the picture that Kenna had taken of me and May sitting together smiling up at the camera. We both looked so carefree and happy. My heart clenched.

Suddenly, I heard a knock on my door. I looked out past the French doors leading to the balcony, and into the inky black night. Who could be at my door in the dead of night? Cautiously, I tiptoed to the door and opened it a crack.

Did Maxon ever give up? Apparently not.

"What do you want?" I hissed. "Couldn't you have chosen a better time?"

"No," he answered. "May I come in, Lady America?"

"I would like it if you skipped out on the formalities, please, Maxon," I said curtly as I opened the door. "I am part of the competition, you know. If you really want to marry a girl here, you can't always address her as 'lady'. You have to know them by name."

"Right." He blinked as he entered. "May I ask why you're wearing that outfit instead of the nightgowns provided?"

"They're itchy," I blurted out. It was the first thing that came to mind besides the truth. "I don't like them."

"Should we switch out the material?" he asked. "We don't have to use silk. I could always inform the seamstresses to switch them out with lace or -"

"No thanks." I said quickly. "What are you doing in here, Maxon? The truth, please."

He sighed. "Are you really leaving, America? The truth, please." I nearly snorted.

"Well. Maybe. I don't really like it here. The girls hate me, you hate me, and I just want to go home to my family."

"Hold on a second, America. I don't hate you." He sounded bewildered.

"Well, whatever. I get the feeling that you don't really like me."

"That's not true! On the contrary, I like you better than most of the girls. I feel most comfortable around you." I could tell he wasn't lying. Not that he was a great liar anyways.

"Still. I don't like. . .this. It's all been too much. I may have not been right about you hating me, but have you _seen_ me during meals? The girls all move away from me, literally."

"May I let you in on a little secret?" he asked.

"If you must."

"Father decided not to do _Reports_ after all. He says it's too risky; the rebels may track us down anyways. So to make up for it, to appease the probably angry public, I'm gonna throw a ball in a few days."

"Fantastic." I said. "Just another reason to hate this all the more."

"That's not all."

"Oh?" My eyebrows rose.

"I'm allowing each remaining Selected girl to bring along their chosen member of the family, be it a cousin, sister, mother, anyone of your choice." By the end, he was smiling. His smile was strange; sort of crooked. Some people may find it 'cute' or whatever, but I found it kind of funny.

My heart soared. "Really? You're kidding, right?"

"Not at all, America." His smile got wider.

"You have outdone yourself, Maxon. Maybe I will stay after all." I found myself smiling back at him - but only a little. My lips weren't used to smiling anymore - I hardly did it anymore, and even less now that I was here, in this mess.

"That's good to hear, Miss America." He bowed mockingly. I snorted out a graceless laugh. But that was good, maybe. Let him know I wasn't princess material, I wasn't poised or graceful or anything like that. Let him know I was biased and flawed and most importantly, a Five.

But I would stay. If it meant I got to see May, hear her laugh, hear her squeal about the food and the dresses and jewelry, then I'd stay.

* * *

The next morning I was in considerably better spirits, even though I hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep.

Yet it also reminded me of the times that Aspen and I used to meet up at ungodly hours just to be together for any amount of time. There were also some different factors, though. Maxon was totally different from Aspen, and here we were nestled in the depths of luxury and finesse.

That day Maxon also eliminated four girls - some girl named Annika, the last Five besides me, Leslie Raine, a Three, Khalilah Dwyer, a Two, and Helena Joyce, a Four. That left twenty one girls, including me.

The king didn't show up for breakfast that day, and Queen Amberly was worrying over her breakfast, looking pained.

If I knew one thing, it was that the death of King Clarkson would be devastating for the queen. I knew, for one thing, that they loved each other.

Maxon also announced the canceling of the _Report_ and the ball. A few diplomats, advisers, family members, friends, and some important Twos would be invited, along with us and our one family member. The girls were considerably excited. Any feelings of disappointment about not getting to be on national television were patched up by the ball. And it's not like any of us were really sad about the _Report_ save for a few attention-seeking Twos. We were all really nervous about _Reports_ on the contrary. What if we messed up, or the people didn't like us?

In the Women's Room, Silvia spoke on and on and on. I didn't listen to anything she said - we were still in the beginning stages of the Selection, so all we needed to know right now was about tasteful makeup and dress choices. I didn't care about that. But she told us once we were in the later stages of the Selection and the number of girls decreased, we would start learning more about what a princess did and would be put on specific assignments. Which would be heard about in the newspapers and would be polled about.

That was also the day of the first rebel attack.

A shrill noise crowded my ears. All of us were confused, a few girls screamed. Silvia was the only one that knew it was the alarm for an attack. Some girls immediately went into shock while others panicked. We were all tripping over ourselves, yelling and running like headless chickens.

Silvia was trying to get us into an orderly line, but there was too much chaos going on. My heart was pounding, but I wasn't in total panic mode like some others. I had to yell for Silvia to hear me. "Is there a secret safe room somewhere here?" I shouted.

She pointed to a door on the far left. "Over there!" she said. "Pull back the thick green book in the middle and there'll be a set of stairs. Pull all the girls you can with you. Did you catch all of that?"

I nodded. I pulled back a girl who looked like a Two, who looked like she might listen. "Okay. I know where the safe room is. You need to listen to me; grab as many girls as will listen and I'll lead the way to the safe rooms."

At first, she started to sneer, but sighed. "You might be a Five and I would normally ignore you, but these are our lives on the line." And with that, she started tapping girls on the shoulders and forcing them to listen.

Once everyone decided to be smart enough and listen to the girl - Mercedes was her name - Silvia led the way. Opening the door, she revealed a tiny room the size of my old room with two shelves of books. She went to the shelf at the back, and pulled back the green book. The shelf started to slide sideways, like a sliding glass door. Revealing a set of rough cement stairs, nearly pitch black.

The only sound was of clacking heels and rustling dresses. I nearly choked on the thick layer dust coating every surface and eventually had to resort to breathing through my mouth.

Once we got to the bottom, there was a huge wooden door. Silvia got out a set of keys and opened it. Inside was a large room with cots and sconces with burned-out torches. Only the queen and Maxon were in there.

Maxon looked relieved once he saw me. . .for some reason. I guessed he just knew me best and trusted me the most. He hardly knew the names of the other girls. . .something they were getting frustrated about lately.

"Thank god you're all safe," he sighed. "Mother was getting so worried, this being your first rebel attack and all."

"Where's the king?" I asked.

Maxon squeezed his eyes closed. "He was at a doctor appointment today. Apparently he can't use his legs anymore. Half the Royal Guard is out looking for him, the rest is fending off the rebels. We don't know what's happened."

"Oh, God," I said. "That's terrible."

"Yeah." A few moments of awkward silence passed, before he quickly said, "I'm probably gonna be forced to do my rounds soon anyways, so you can just go lie on a cot and rest or something."

"Okay." I said.

The cots were hard and uncomfortable, something I took unexpected comfort in. This reminded me of my bed, which was pretty lumpy and not too comfortable. It reminded me of times when May would crawl into bed with me when she had nightmares or when there was a thunderstorm or she was just feeling lonely. My bed was associated with lots of childhood memories. We'd never had enough money to replace the old mattress, which was fine by me. I loved it too much to let it go now, anyways.

I closed my eyes and imagined May's warm little body beside mine, her fiery red hair splayed out against my chest. I could imagine myself stroking her hair and singing her a soft, comforting lullaby until she fell asleep against me, her breath coming out in short puffs, and I would soon follow suit.

With those thoughts, I drifted off unintentionally.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

 **America POV**

"Lady America?" A gravelly voice whispered in my ear.

I started. It took me a few seconds to realize where I was and why I was here. "Huh?" My voice was groggy as I sat up, blinking and trying to adjust to the darkness around me.

"The rebels have been eradicated. You may resume your normal activities." It was probably a guard; I could tell by his voice.

"Right." I got up and realized most of the girls were already gone. Only a few of them remained, and a blond girl with way too much makeup and a way too short dress was feeling up Maxon. I wanted to laugh at his uncomfortable expression and red ears and face.

I decided he needed some saving. Catching my balance, I got up and went to him. "Maxon, my dear," I said, linking my arm through his and completely ignoring the girl. "I see you need an escort. Follow me."

The girl glared daggers at me. I looked away so I wouldn't catch on fire and walked with Maxon. "Thank you for saving me," he whispered.

I shrugged. "You looked about ready to let the earth swallow you up. We can't have that, now, can we? You're the heir; we need you."

He snorted, a very ugly sound. I cringed, and thankfully he didn't see since it was so dark. We started ascending the stairs. "Your hair looks like a rat's nest," he noted, his eyes lifting to my messy hair.

"Thank you for noticing," I muttered. "All my maids' hard work. . .wasted."

"No, not wasted," he insisted. "I actually like it."

I was appalled. "Excuse me?"

I could feel him blushing from a mile. "I don't know, it's just. . .pretty."

Feeling the need to change the subject, I quickly said, "Did they find your dad?"

He went quiet for a long while. I focused on breathing through my mouth and not tripping on the steep stairs. "No," he said quietly, almost inaudibly. "They're still searching for him. It's futile, though. They've already scoured the whole place - twice. We're thinking he's either dead or taken hostage by the rebels."

"I'm sorry," I said, albeit awkwardly. This wouldn't just be hard on Maxon; it would be tough on Queen Amberly and the entire country. King Clarkson may have been strict, but he was a good king. I think.

He was searching for something to say, when I suddenly tripped and fell. My knee scraped against the rough cement and my heel clattered down the stairwell. I cursed. Maxon laughed.

I glared up at him, even though he probably couldn't see me. " _What_ is so funny about this, Maxon Schreave?"

I could vaguely see his hands going up in surrender. "Nothing, nothing. Just your use of language. . .Here, let me help." I grumbled as Maxon lifted me up carefully. "Are you okay, America? Have you hurt yourself?"

"Just a missing heel, bent pride, and a scraped knee," I said in an overly cheery voice. "Thank you for being so _considerate_ and asking, Mister Maxon."

He had the nerve to laugh again, causing me to cringe again. Why was his laugh so weird? He sounded kind of like he was having trouble breathing. "Maxon!" I complained. "Would you stop laughing at me?"

"S-sorry, Lady America, you're just funny," he said. "It's been a long time since I've laughed."

"Yeah, well, it kind of shows," I said. "Your laugh really needs some serious fine-tuning."

We were at the top of the stairs now. "Hey!" he said, and it was my turn to chuckle. "You should do very well to go back to your room. I want all my girls to be safe, so as a precaution you're all taking your lunches in your rooms."

"Thank god, because I was kind of getting tired of the Women's Room," I sighed. "The girls are so snippy and gossipy and unlikeable. Except for maybe Mercedes. She's decent."

"Yeah, she's one of the only girls that I truly like," he said. "Her personality is. . .genuine."

Why did that bother me so much? I felt like I had come to be Maxon's favorite, without even _wanting_ it! I had wanted to go home, what, just a few nights ago? Now here I was, getting _jealous_. Since when had I gotten so petty?

I shook off the thoughts as I went back to the Women's Room and Maxon and I parted ways. I went straight back to my room, where my maids already were. Marlee gave a high-squealed pitch and threw her arms around me. "America! You're alive!"

"Quite alive," I replied. "You look pretty alive yourself."

She laughed. "We were all so worried! The rebel attack wasn't so bad, but it was your first one, so we were wondering if maybe you hadn't gotten down to one of the safe rooms in time. But look! Here you are, alive and healthy and with a haystack of hair!"

"It's my favorite style so far." I posed, and they laughed. "The prince says he likes it this way, though I do not understand _why_."

Marlee giggled. "The prince likes you?"

"No!" I said quickly. "He just likes my hair this way."

She punched my shoulder lightly. "You're so blind, miss! He totally likes you!"

"You're being silly. That's not even relevant. I'm a _Five_!"

"Caste doesn't matter! Love conquers all!" she insisted. "I -" she stopped suddenly.

"You what?"

"I found that out the hard way." Her voice lowered and became more somber.

I decided not to pry; it wasn't my business anyway. But I had to wonder; did it have to do with the angry pink scars on the back of her hands?

If that was what love cost, then maybe I shouldn't fall in love with Maxon.

Not that I would, anyways.

* * *

The next few days at the palace were quiet. I was getting more and more excited; May and all the other guests were supposed to get here tomorrow, the day before the ball.

Maxon started speed-dating then. Taking girls to the archery range, shooting range, the stables, the movie theater, I heard one girl even went ice-skating with him! And me?

Nothing.

Except that one gone-wrong sort-of date. Which wasn't even considered a date! It wasn't romantic or anything of the sort. In fact, I tried to block out the memory as much as possible. It was a painful memory.

I sat at the balcony, watching the sun set with a mug of hot chocolate in my hand. Actually, more like I was watching the marshmallows melting into the hot chocolate. The sun burned my eyes.

"Need some company, miss?" I looked up to see Marlee there.

I shrugged. "I guess."

She pulled up the chair beside mine and sat. "Do you ever wonder about me?" she asked.

"In what sense?"

"Oh, you know. These always spark peoples' curiosity." She held out her hands.

"I do wonder. But I don't like to nose into peoples' business."

"I was in the prince's last Selection," she said. I nodded, remembering her interview two years ago. She was more bright and cheerful and bubbly, but here she looked older, more mature. "Two days in, I was so disappointed. I was expecting Maxon to be so much more than he turned out to be. I felt nothing towards him, though I was desperate to feel _something_. And one day, I met him. Carter Woodwork.

"He used to be a guard here. He cared for me, and would visit me and give me little things. But at the Halloween Party, another guard discovered us in a closet. The prince convinced his father not to kill us on the spot or make our punishment public. It was just as bad, though. Being caned twenty times. It's been two years and these scars will always be here. It shows you what you will do for love."

I looked straight into my cup. Tragic story. What could I say? "My love story was tragic, too," I said.

"Would you like to tell me?" she asked gently. "Or is it too painful?"

"I think I kind of need to get this off my chest," I said after a while. "Do you remember Kamber Leger?"

"The Six who won the competition but got killed before she and Maxon could get married? Of course. We're gonna remember her a long time from now."

"She had a brother - an older brother. His name was Aspen. He was a Six at the time, and I was a Five. We met and it was this instant connection. But our love was kind of, I don't know, forbidden. We would meet up at my tiny treehouse in the dead of night so as not to get caught.

"But our relationship had problems. He told me he didn't want me to marry him because he didn't want me to be poor or hungry or scared all the time. We broke up for a while, until Kamber got Selected. Things were looking up for the family, so we got back together.

"He proposed to me, and I accepted. We were engaged and happy and free for a time. But as you know, he went to the palace to watch his sister, cheer her on. And he got killed along with his siblings and mom."

My throat was getting thick, felt like it was closing up. It was getting harder to talk. I was fighting back tears, remembering. . .

"Maybe it just wasn't meant to be," she said in a soft voice. "Maybe the right guy is out there, looking for _you._ "

"I've been dwelling on it for the past two years. It's hard to forget something like that. But since the Selection started, and Maxon came along, things began to change. I can't accept it, but I have to. That Aspen wasn't my 'right guy'."

"He'll come along at the worst possible time, trust me." She was trying to lighten the mood, and I was thankful for it. "Just like Carter did. But things will look up. Something good always comes out of something bad."

"I hope you're right." I said. Then I got up and stretched. "This conversation has been _tiring_. I think I'm going to retire for the night."

"I think that's my cue." She got up. "Would you like me to draw you a bath?"

Marlee wasn't just a maid. She wasn't someone who did everything she was asked, or someone who could be bossed around and commanded just because they wanted to. She was a true person, with a true personality. I felt bad for asking her for things.

"Um. . ."

"It's okay. This is my job. I've been treated worse."

"Fine." I relented. "Just don't take longer than twenty minutes to prepare it."

She laughed and nodded. "Yes, ma'am." She mock-curtsied and retreated to the bathroom.

I shook my head and sat back down. I continued sipping on my hot chocolate, looking out at the waves. Maybe if Marlee hadn't come and talk to me, I would've wanted to jump into the ocean and swim.

But there were some problems with that. Firstly, I didn't have my swimsuit and I didn't want to ruin hours' worth of work by my maids. Secondly, where could I go? Exactly. Nowhere. Thirdly, Maxon needed me. I was the only one he trusted even a little bit, and I needed to help him find his woman. Fourthly, May was coming tomorrow. I _needed_ to see her.

"Surprise!" A little voice I would recognize anywhere called out.

 _Speak of the devil._ The mug slipped through my fingers and shattered on the cement floor. "MAY!" I shrieked. We ran to each other and met halfway, colliding into each other. We fell to the ground, a tangle of limbs, laughing and crying.

"I can't believe you're here, May! You're early!"

"Of course I am! I wouldn't miss a second of the Schreave summer home luxuries! And I needed to see you, Ames!"

I needed to see her, too. Desperately. I was falling to pieces without my family, most of all May. I missed our useless squabbles and comforting her when she was scared and all our laughs and our shared love of sweets.

And also, we had a _lot_ to catch up on.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey, it's me again. I had a little bout of writer's block, so I had to plow through it and do whatever I could, so sorry if it's a bit. . .iffy. Or whatever. Anyways, thanks to anyone who has reviewed/favorited/followed this story! You guys keep me going!**

 **Red**


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N:** Wow. I just realized how long it's been since I updated, so I told myself it's time to get up off my lazy ass and just WRITE. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 11

I don't think I'd ever been so happy. Not since the whole 'incident' and everything I knew fell apart.

It was hard to wrap my mind around the fact that, here I was, in the prince's summer home with twenty other girls in a brutal competition to win his heart. And here May was, to top off the best night of my life since Aspen's proposal.

May was at the buffet table, eagerly stuffing her face with hors d'eouvres and other elaborate palace food. I was watching her with a glass of champagne in my hand, smiling and content.

"May I have this dance, m'lady?" A guard came up and bowed to me. I started, disappointed that it wasn't Maxon. He'd been dancing with every girl, some more than once, _except_ for me. As if he were avoiding me or something. Had I done something wrong? Had I done something to royally piss him off?

This guard wasn't the first one to ask for a dance. The ball had started an hour ago and was now in full swing. Everything was perfect, except for the fact that the king and queen were both absent. I tried not to dwell on the fact or worry too much. Tonight was supposed to be fun and nobody was supposed to worrying.

"Of course," I said. Silvia made it clear that we were not to deny anyone a dance, that we had to put our dance lessons to use. Not that the dance lessons had helped a bit; they just made me trip over my own feet even more. Or so it seemed to me.

The guard was very patient with my poor dancing skills. He didn't mind when I stepped on his toes repeatedly or got the moves wrong. He just led me on, going with the flow. I felt terrible amongst all the graceful dancers moving lithely and effortlessly to the music. I felt completely inferior to them.

When the song was over, he bowed and I curtsied, then went back to the table to get something a little stronger than champagne. I was so embarrassed right now, maybe a little alcohol would fix my two left feet.

"Hello, my dear," said a familiar voice behind me. I turned so quickly that the wine in my glass almost sloshed over.

"Need I remind you that you are not allowed to call me 'your dear'?" My voice sounded different to me. I felt light as a cloud and relaxed. There was nothing in the world to worry about except that Maxon still was calling me his dear. That was not okay.

"I think you need to lay off on the wine, America. Is this your first time drinking alcohol?" He sounded so very amused.

"No, Maxon. I daintily sip expensive wine with foreign princesses at _every single_ meal." Sarcasm hung heavy in my voice.

He chuckled. "I think that's enough."

"I don't! Fives aren't rich enough to drink wine, and this is damn delicious if you ask me! It is _not_ enough!"

"Yes, but you'll have plenty more chances to drink wine later on, alright?" he said. "If you drink too much, you'll be hungover tomorrow morning. We wouldn't want that, would we?"

I harrumphed and swigged at my wine, draining half of it in response. "You were saying?" I drawled.

"Care to spare a few dances for me?" He switched topic so fast my sluggish brain was barely keeping up.

"What do you mean? Why don't _you_ spare a few dances for _me_? Because this whole night, you've been waltzing and prancing with everyone _but_ me. Care to tell me why you're suddenly taking a disliking to me?"

"On the contrary, America, I tend to save the best thing for last. And your dance with me will be the best tonight."

"Oh, bother." I waved my hand. "That's because you're a prince. For me, I always have to save the best for first because if I don't, it'll be gone the next second."

"Things run differently here. Now put the wine down and let's dance."

I lifted the glass to my lips, but suddenly he snatches it out of my hand and puts it on one of the servants' trays. "Hey!" I protest, while he smiles trying not to laugh. Eventually I give in and laugh with him.

"I can't dance," I warn him as he leads me back to the dance floor.

"That's okay. Just follow my lead." He said.

On my insistence, we stayed on the outskirts of the dance floor, instead of being smack in the middle just like he'd done for his other girls. Still, that didn't stop their withering stares burning several holes into my back.

It was easier than I would've imagined. He was a good dancer, I must admit, albeit begrudgingly, and it was easier than I would've made it out to be. "See? This isn't so bad, is it?" he asked.

I shrugged. "At least you're better than Farley over there." I jerked my chin, motioning to Officer Farley, who was now dancing with Amy Stevens.

"I kind of have to be. Or else it would look bad."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course."

He was about to respond when a few guards rushed into the ballroom looking as if they'd just run twenty miles. Which they probably had; this place wasn't the palace, but it was still like a maze. They practically pushed me aside in their rush to get to Maxon, speaking urgently into his ear. His smile dropped off his face abruptly and he spoke back to them quickly, before they left once again.

"What's going on?" I asked.

He ran a hand through his hair. "They've found my father."

I widened my eyes, but it seemed to soon to celebrate. His voice was so grave, as if finding his father was a bad thing. "And?" I asked cautiously.

"He's dead."

And then instantly the alcohol-induced haze cleared from my head with those two words. I was alert, and I was flooded with emotions.

What was I supposed to say to that? _Oh, Maxon, I'm so sorry_? That didn't seem right. This wasn't just his father we were talking about; it was our king. What were we supposed to do without a king?

He continued on, as if just to fill the uncomfortable, heavy silence. "They found him on his bedroom floor. He looked untouched except for a trail of blood on his lip. They said he's probably been dead for three days now."

"Maxon, stop," I said. "That's not going to make this any better."

He continued on. "And now what am I supposed to do? I'm in the middle of my Selection! Without a king, I'm either going to have to pick now or very soon, and then be immediately crowned as king. It's too much."

I looked around. Most everyone seemed to be doing their own thing. I turned us around. "You're overwhelmed and you need sleep. Come on, let's get out of here."

I wrapped an arm around his waist, and his head dropped onto my shoulder as if it were too heavy for his own shoulders. "I failed, America. I failed him, I failed my country. . ."

Seeing him so vulnerable and raw made me feel. . .strange. I hadn't felt this much emotion since. . .since his death. Like a fist was squeezing my heart. It made me want to share his pain, to be there to make him feel better whether he wanted to or not. I wanted to comfort him, to make him smile or laugh his terrible laugh or even crack a smile. I wanted to see him happy.

So I dragged him away. I didn't know where his room was, so I went to my room instead. My maids were there. I ordered them to go fetch extra blankets and water. It was my first real order here.

I laid him on my bed and tucked him in like I would tuck in Gerad. "I know this is hard, Maxon, but it will turn out okay. I _will_ make it okay." I said as I lay next to him. "Now go to sleep."

"I'm so stupid," he mumbled. "Thank you so much, America."

"No need, Maxon. I know you would do the same for me. This is what friends are for. Now hush and close your eyes."

"Friends. . ." he mumbled as I rearranged the sheets as a makeshift bed on the floor.

"Goodnight, Maxon."

"Goodnight, my dear."

"Maxon. . ." I warned.

"Worth a try." He let out an almost-but-not-quite laugh.

When I woke up the next morning, he was gone and I was in my own bed.

* * *

I didn't even get to say goodbye.

May was gone. Safely on a plane back to Carolina. Without even a goodbye from me.

Maxon seemed like a zombie. Going through the motions without really doing it. His head hung heavy like there was an invisible weight holding him down. He would barely talk. Until. . .

He cleared his throat, stood up. Everyone looked at him with rapt attention. And for once, he didn't look uncomfortable or fidgeting and red-faced to be the center of attention. He just looked. . .sad.

"Ladies," he announced. "The rebels have managed to find us despite our best efforts. My father was found dead on his bedroom floor last night by a few guards patrolling. It is my responsibility to keep you ladies safe in this place. So as of now, we are transferring you back to the palace. . .after narrowing you down to the Elite."

Oh.

Maybe I wasn't good enough. I was just his friend and nothing more. Maybe for the Elite, 'friend' wouldn't be good enough. Maybe I had to be something more than just a friend. What if I didn't make it?

 _No_. If I was eliminated, I would go back home. I would see Mom, Dad, May, Gerad, Kenna, James, and little Astra. . .and that was a _good_ thing. I wouldn't completely fail them; after all, even getting into this competition was a huge leap for me. I would be succeeding just by making it this far.

Yet a little voice nagged at me. Looking at Maxon last night, in such pain. Grief was supposed to be twelve stages, but it was as if he'd entered the first stage long before his father had died. And he just. . .snapped. He needed me to be here, and help him through this. To keep him from crumbling, keep him strong for his country. We all needed him more than ever right now. And he needed me.

The girls around me began to whisper frantically, worried that they wouldn't make the cut. Others just looked on smugly, completely at ease. Completely sure they would be part of the Elite. I just sat there, gripping the table, forgetting about my half-eaten breakfast.

"I am so sorry to the girls who won't make it. But you will always be considered an important part of history, a Daughter of Illéa. You can get so much farther in life just by being here. I guarantee you can find someone who can make you happy." He smiled tightly and continued. "And for those of you who made it, congratulations. Since the rebels have infiltrated our top-secret location, I am narrowing the Elite down to seven instead of ten just to be safe."

More worried murmurs. The smug ones dropped their smiles a bit. My knuckles grew white.

"These are our Elite: Cassiopeia Klark. Maya Perry. Amy Stevens. Mercedes Webster. Gwendolyn Pizarro. Kathryn Austin. And America Singer." I blew out a huge sigh of relief, my whole figure slumping. I hadn't realized how tense I was.

But what did this mean?

The Selection was over.

And the Elite had begun. The official competition was beginning now.


	13. Chapter 12

**A/N: Hey, guys! Back again with another update. Hope you enjoy the chapter, and make sure to review! I just adore those.**

 **-Red.**

Chapter 12

The days leading up to our transfer back to the palace were hectic, busy. And lonely.

The shift from twenty or so girls down to seven was. . .hard to adjust to. Suddenly I was thrown into a fierce competition and there were only six girls in between a life of crowns, ball gowns, and luxury.

I shook myself out of my thoughts as my maids dressed me in a simple yellow chiffon top, khaki pants, and sandals. My hair was put into a simple twist and my face left makeup-less. Today I would be greeting the palace for the first time.

I stood at the entrance of the prince's summer home, leaning against the wall. My bags were packed and ready to go. The limousine was ready, the plane was waiting. Most of the staff who had been working here for the past two and a half months were already back at the palace, with the exception of a handful of guards and servants. And our maids, of course.

The only thing keeping us behind were the girls themselves. Hoping to look fabulous for their first time in the prince's _actual_ home. I thought it was useless. Who _cared_ whether you wore a shirt and pants or a heavy, costly gown? I didn't know Maxon well, but I knew for one thing that he wasn't shallow. He looked beyond the surface. _He_ didn't care how you looked.

I'd been waiting for half an hour, when I heard the telltale clacking of heels. I turned and saw Mercedes, wearing a simple pink floral day dress with pale pink pumps and neutral makeup. Her butterscotch curls hung loosely around her shoulders.

Not far behind was who I recognized as Kathryn Austin, who had gone all out. She wore a forest-green ankle-length dress that accented her curves and fluttered around her figure. She wore black stilettos that I would surely twist my ankles in, and a decent layer of makeup. Her almond hair was curled tightly, half in a braid, half bunched around her shoulders.

"Ready to meet the palace?" Kathryn was a Two, but she seemed more like one of those who would grow into a very rich person but gave half of it to the poor. She was one of the kindest people I'd met despite her caste.

"More like ready to throw up," she said, exhaling shakily. "I _hate_ planes. They terrify me."

"Me, too," Mercedes chimed in. "My grandparents live in the North, so we visit them by plane every year. It never gets easier, though."

We slipped into easy conversation, something I'd never thought possible. _Me_ , America Singer, mingling with two of society's highest-ranking girls? I may be a Two now, since I was part of the Elite, but...once a Five, always a Five.

The other girls slowly trickled in. Cassiopeia Klark was the last one in, and then Maxon and his mother appeared soon after.

Had it been a few months ago that this was happening and we were still in the early stages of the Selection, I don't think I would've curtsied with the other girls. But things had changed, especially of my view of Maxon. Not that I loved him. . .that still seemed a long way off. I couldn't see myself calling him 'sweetie' or kissing him every morning. The thought actually made me recoil a bit. But he was still my friend, and he wasn't the boring, stiff man I'd thought him to be.

So I curtsied, along with everyone else. He looked worn down by life, his eyes tired and droopy and his posture slumping. But there was no one there to tell him to stand up straight and deal with it. Amberly looked basically the same, dark purple rings under her eyes and filled with sorrow. I couldn't imagine the amount of pain she was in.

When his eyes drifted over to me, I offered him a small smile. One of his eyes closed, quickly followed by the other.

Did he just _wink_ at me (or attempt to)? Or did he just have dust in his eye?

I couldn't dwell on it for long. We had to get going, now that everyone was in attendance. A few guards escorted us out to the limousine, where all nine of us settled in. We drove past the beach, the calm waves, and the lone house standing isolated in it all. The beach soon smoothed out into paved road. Houses rushed into view, though far apart. Soon, we were in the city, with closely-packed neighborhoods and buildings all around.

The airport was ready for us. It was the royal family's own special airport, built like any other building so as to stay inconspicuous. Only the royal family or their relatives (or us Selected girls) were allowed in.

The plane was just like any other and blended in with them. I was jumping with nerves, feeling a knot at the pit of my stomach growing and growing. The flight attendant was extra-smiley, with a smile that said _I'm smiling because I'm forced to but I actually hate your guts_. I made sure to demonstrate to her that the feeling was mutual.

The plane took off towards the palace. My insides melted into jelly and my stomach was left somewhere at the airport. I gripped the armrests for dear life, until we were safely in the sky. Then I could breathe again.

The flight was only an hour or so long, which meant it was probably six to eight hours by car. We landed in another royal family airport and were safely escorted into the palace.

It was enormous. I tilted my head fully just to look up at it, looming over me. I could hardly comprehend its sheer size.

My first day at the palace was different from my first day at Maxon's summer home. I was somewhat used to it by now, I got the schedule and everything. The only things different were the rooms and the assignments we would be getting from Silvia.

We had lunch and then a meeting with Silvia. "Hello, ladies," she greeted. "How are you feeling, to have made it to the final seven? Proud? Accomplished? Smug, maybe?"

Uh-oh.

"Well, it must wear off now. You are not a girl anymore; you are a _woman_. I will morph you into a strong, powerful, responsible young princess, the perfect ruler to sit by Prince Maxon's side. Those lessons I taught you, when you were still a big group? About tasteful makeup and dress choices? That's child's play. No more of that, my dears. We are done with that and must move on."

Crap. Downside to being one of the Elite? Dealing with Silvia.

"Your first task will be done at a child care service not far from here. Two young women named Brianna Velle and Joanna Marty run the business to serve lower-caste children who have next to nothing. The business is not government-funded and they are struggling to stay open. Your job is to visit them in a weeks' time and formulate a plan to keep them open. This will be done solitarily and each plan must be individual. Got it?"

We were too stunned to say anything at first.

"Got it?" she repeated harshly.

"Got it" we chorused back hesitantly.

Well, this was not going to end well.

* * *

What did I eat today?

On the plane, I was too nervous to eat more than a bit of crackers and drink a bit of apple juice. For lunch, I was still feeling those post-plane jitters, so I only drank the flavored water and ate a bit of the lamb chops.

No chance of eating anymore today.

I was on my way to dinner when an ear-shattering wailing noise sent me crumpling to the floor grasping my ears. A nearby guard yanked me up off the floor and pried my hands off my ears. "Rebels!" he said. "We have to get you to the safe room, miss!"

Rebels again.

He rushed me to what I _thought_ was a linen closet. To be fair, it was, but it revealed a dank staircase leading down to a safe room. The guard rushed me down and all but shoved me into it before rushing back up.

Queen Amberly, Maxon, and a few of the girls were already in. It looked to me like Mercedes was on the verge of a panic attack and Maxon was having to calm her down.

I sat down on a hard, lumpy cot, fingering a loose thread on the rock-hard pillow.

When I came into this Selection, I thought it impossible to make it past even the first elimination. It would be easy money - our first paycheck could hold us up for one entire year - and then I would lose, come home, and forget about it. Yet here I was, feeling homesick and in the freaking _Elite_ , with an unlikely friendship with Maxon. Who could've imagined?

It made me realize how close I was to my family and how much I relied on them. I missed them terribly, my chest ached every time I thought about them. I even missed me and Mom's constant fighting. It still comforted me to think that now we were pretty much rich and I had helped them.

The cot dipped and I turned to see Maxon sitting beside me. I looked around and saw Mercedes lying on a cot facing the wall in fetal position. "Hey," he said.

"Hi," I replied. "How are you holding up?"

He ran a hand through his now-perpetually mussed blond hair. "It's - it's been rough," he says. "The funeral's tomorrow."

I scooted closer to him. "You don't have to do this alone, you know," I said. "It's not just you. Your mother - heck, even the entire country! We're all suffering."

"I know it's not my fault." He looked at me, his honey-brown eyes swimming with guilt and sorrow. "But I still blame myself."

I patted his shoulder. "It's better to get your mind off of it," I told him. "Let's talk about something else, shall we?"

He shrugged. "At this rate, I feel like I'm never going to get a wife. I'm sort of panicking, wondering _how_ I will choose out of seven girls. None of them feel. . .right. I mean, they're all nice girls, but -"

"Shh," I shushed him. "This Selection has been going on for, what, two and a half months? _Nobody_ expects you to find your true love in two and a half months. Especially now that you've lost a father. Take your time."

He turned to me. "I don't know what I'd do without you. I'd be _lost_. You're so patient with me, the only friend I really have here. . ."

"I promised to be your confidant," I said. "I am holding up that promise and I intend to until I am no longer needed. Just remember that, okay? I'll be here as long as you need me."

"I think you'll be sticking around for a while," he said, half a smile turning up a corner of his mouth. It was hardly a smile, but it was something. "I still need your advice on picking a wife who can stand me for the rest of our lives."

"Oh, don't you worry about that, Maxon," I assured him, though my tone was joking. "I'm sure we can find you someone."

He snorted a very ugly, un-princely snort. I chuckled and punched him in the shoulder playfully. And then my stomach growled. "America?" he peered at me. "Are you hungry?"

"No," I lied. "I'm fine. It's worse at my house, I assure you."

"What do you mean? Are you telling me you used to go hungry?"

"Don't worry about that, Maxon. The paychecks since I got here have helped immensely. I - or any of my family, for that matter - every go hungry anymore."

He turned away so I wouldn't see his expression. "Maxon?"

He pushed himself off my cot. "I'm gonna go get you some food."

"You don't have to do this," I say quickly. "I'm fine. I can take it."

"It is my responsibility to keep you safe and nourished," he said as he walked away. "I am the prince; don't tell me what I can and can't do."

I sighed and my shoulders slumped. _Stubborn_.

Maxon came back a bit later with canned goods and a bottled water. "I'll eat with you, if it'll make you feel better." His tone wasn't as harsh anymore, in fact it was soft. I looked up at him, and he smiled encouragingly while holding out an array of cans and a bottle of water.

I took a can of peaches and canned asparagus, not in the mood for baked beans or tuna or ravioli. "Thanks," I muttered as he sat back down beside me. After a while of silence, I said, "Maxon, who do you like?"

"Hmm?"

"Which one of the Elite do you truly like? I mean, like for their personality, not because of their caste or ties to other countries?"

"You," he automatically said.

"Other than me?"

"Well. . ." he looked at the wall thoughtfully. "Mercedes. . .I'm sort of inexplicably drawn to her. She's sweet and sometimes she gives me little gifts. Kathryn is very kind and she can always make me laugh. Those two - and you - are probably my top contenders as of now."

"See? This competition isn't entirely hopeless, Maxon. I know that sometimes girls just enter for the crown, but I know Mercedes and Kathryn the best out of these girls, even if we're not. . . _best friends_. I know they have good intentions and they're here for _you_ , not for being queen."

"Thank you, America." He sounded sincere. "You help me understand that this competition isn't for nothing."

I smiled. "Of course. You just have to take your time.

After that, we lapsed into silence while finishing our dinners. The palace was deemed clear of rebels and I went to my room. It's bigger than the last one, with a fancy, frilly canopy bed, fireplace, desk, balcony, bookshelf, walk-in closet, ensuite bathroom, dresser, and plush carpeting. I let my maids bathe me and dress me in a lace nightgown before falling asleep.

And that was my first day at the palace.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

 **Mercedes POV**

"Are you sure you don't need anything, miss?" My head maid, Brenda, asked. She stood in front of me, looking concerned.

"I'm sure," I assured her, nodding. "There's a guard right outside my door if I need him. I can just call him if anything goes wrong. I'll be okay, I promise."

She nodded hesitantly and curtsied. Natasha and Tori followed her lead before they trickled out of my room.

Now I just had to find a way to stay awake until the busy, busy palace fell silent. Or as silent as it could ever be.

I tried reading my favorite book, but couldn't concentrate. I examined pictures of me, my little sister, my older brother, and my sister in law with their two children. Being separated from them was like hell. We were a close-knit family, did everything together. It was hard for me to be ripped away from them. Though being with Maxon had made it all worth it.

Speaking of the prince. . .I wasn't sure how it happened, but I liked him. I liked him a lot. His inexperience with dating, his strange laugh, the way he was so nervous. . .I couldn't deny it. I was attracted to him. I couldn't do it.

Nervousness bubbled in my chest as I finally resorted to pacing up and down my room as night fell. How was I supposed to do this? How would I find the courage to tell them that I didn't _want_ to do this anymore?

After hours of pacing, it was one thirty in the morning. The palace never slept no matter what, but I was sure this was its quietest time and no one would notice me slipping out for an hour or so.

I put on my designated uniform, which was a suit jacket with a gun tucked into the pocket, khakis, and pastel pumps. I couldn't bother myself with my hair, so I left it as it was.

When I came to this palace, they'd given me a room at the far end of the hall. I nearly threw a fit and requested a room with a balcony, claiming I got claustrophobic and air was my best friend. So that's what they gave me. As a bonus, there was a very tall oak tree I could climb down.

I opened the French doors leading out to the balcony slowly. Hopefully the guard outside was too busy trying to keep his eyes opened to notice. I cracked it open just enough so my body could fit through and I could reach a sturdy branch.

I'd climbed trees since I could remember, creating mischief with Natalie, my sister (she was eight), and my niece, Victoria (or Vicky for short). My parents had always hated it, afraid we would fall and break something. But we loved it too much to care.

I walked over to the edge of the balcony, reaching out with my arm as far as I could, aiming for a thick branch that looked like it could hold my weight. I stretched my body to the limit, until I wrapped both hands around the branch. Stepping up onto the ledge of the balcony, I tested my weight. Once I was sure it wouldn't break, I unleashed my full weight onto it. Relieved that it didn't snap and send me propelling one hundred feet below.

I let go of the branch with one hand and reach for another one a few inches below it. The process was long and slow, but finally I jumped the last few feet, rolling onto my side so I wouldn't land on my feet and twist my ankle (I was wearing heels, after all). I picked myself up and began running.

One of my fellow spies pretending to be a guard escorted me out. No one questioned it, surprisingly. He told me to run, so I did.

After a few miles, I stopped to catch my breath. Being a Two, I didn't really need a job, other than going to school and keeping my grades up. I was captain of the cheerleading squad, part of the track team. I would be on the swim team, but cheerleading cost me a lot of time and left barely enough for track. I could run five miles, easy.

After I found my breath again, I continued on foot, hand always on my gun. In Paloma, there were a lot of rapists, murderers, kidnappers. Paloma wasn't considered the South, where the true misery boiled, but some things of the South had rubbed off on my province. My father had taught me how to shoot a gun and defend myself when I was ten.

Luckily nothing happened and my gun didn't have to be used. I got safely to the 24-hour diner, the meeting place, all dingy and rusty and old and family-run.

I ordered coffee to keep my awake, and sat down at a booth. Sitting there was Jan (I didn't know her real name, but we didn't want to be found out, so we used code names), in a crumpled blazer and with a file in hand. She was perhaps a few years older than me, with honey skin, curly black hair, and green eyes. Despite her beauty, it was marred by the perpetual anger in her eyes. She was a Seven, suffered a lot. Her father and two siblings had died at the hands of a mining accident. She was angry at the monarchy for the castes, for their suffering, so she joined the rebels.

Thank God it wasn't Ran or Ean or someone like that. My courage would've wilted then and there.

The coffee was bitter and gross, but I drank it anyway. "Hello, Rey," she said. "I take it things are going well?"

I gulped. When I was fifteen, I was snatched by a rebel leader. He thought I had potential, since I was a Two and nobody would ever suspect me. I was _fifteen_ , I was scared for my life and afraid he would hurt my family. So I accepted. When I came of age and Maxon's second Selection rolled around, they made sure I got in. I began acting as their spy, but I didn't want to do that anymore. I didn't want to help with Prince Maxon's murder. I couldn't hurt him.

"Hello, Jan," I replied, forcing my voice to stay steady.

"Report," she barked.

"I'm not doing this anymore," I snapped. "Tell the boss I'm done."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"

"I'm quitting," I blurted. Then the words just rushed out of my mouth. "Prince Maxon isn't terrible. He is nice and sweet and cares about his country. It's not his fault we're like this, it was King Clarkson's! So why should I aid in murdering him when there is no true reason to murder him?"

"You're so weak, Mercedes." She growled. I was startled; she used my real name! She smacked her palm on the table and I involuntarily flinched. " _Weak_! I knew you couldn't resist the prince's _blond hair_ or _chocolate eyes_! I knew it would come to this! But the damn boss wouldn't listen to me! ' _Rey is an asset. We need her_ '," she mocked. "Well, I knew you would betray us!"

Despite Jan being a woman, she was fiercer than most men I knew. Suddenly I wished maybe Ran or Ean or someone like that had come instead.

I had no idea what to say. So I just didn't say anything.

Jan suddenly grabbed the cup of coffee, yanked the top off, and threw the remaining coffee inside of it at me. It drenched the top of my shirt and my face. "Fine. If that's how it's going to be, then you have no reason to be alive." Jan said, a murderous edge to her tone.

She drew her gun and pointed it at me. My eyes widened. My hands shook violently under the table and adrenaline raced through my system. _Oh, no you don't,_ I thought. _My life will_ not _end at the hands of a desperate rebel._

I let her think I wasn't going to move. I saw her hand on the trigger, pulling back ever so slowly. At the last second, I ducked under the table. A _pop!_ and then the bullet embedded itself in the wall behind us.

The clerk at the cashier screamed, drowning out my own. I crawled out from under the table as fast as I could, grabbing my pistol. Jan grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked. I cried out and threw my elbow out, hoping to at least distract her.

It caught her hard in the stomach. She let go of me and I scrambled to my feet, pointing the pistol at her. My eyes were wide. I knew I wouldn't kill her, but I had to at least let her think so.

"This is not over, Rey," she said, spitting out blood. "The boss will find out about this, and you _will_ pay."

I did anything that a terrified girl would do: I ran.

* * *

 **America POV**

"Miss?" A voice said.

My eyes cracked open and I saw Marlee standing over me with a sullen expression. "Lady America? It's time for you to get up."

I yawned and sat up. "What's going on?" I asked, looking around. Elaine and Amber held a black garment bag.

"We need to get you ready for King Clarkson's funeral," she said softly.

"Oh," I said, almost inaudibly. "Oh."

She gave me a sympathetic smile. After taking a shower (I was not in the mood for a bath), I got dressed in an elegant, sleek black dress that went to the knee, with black rhinestone heels. My hair was left down, framing my face. For makeup, black eyeshadow, eyeliner, and lip gloss were applied onto my face.

They also gave me a red rose to hold against my chest. "It's okay, miss," Marlee whispered softly as I fought back tears. "Be strong for your country. For Maxon." I nodded and walked over, embraced her. She was surprised, but returned the hug gracefully. "Go now," she said.

I nodded. For the first time ever, I was the last one, not the first one, to be there. I reached the foyer, and saw all the girls wearing dresses of all different styles. The only thing the same was the color: black.

A few guards escorted us down the stairs. The doors were opened, revealing an overcast sky, the sun hidden behind the clouds. We walked outside, crossed the driveway, and headed past the huge walls fencing us in. The gates cracked open, revealing two limousines.

I was in a limousine with Mercedes, Kathryn, Queen Amberly, and Maxon. The rest were in the second limousine. It broke my heart to see how Maxon and Amberly leaned on each other, trying so hard not to break apart.

Mercedes was shaking. She looked terrified and distracted, hands clasping the hem of her ankle-length lacy black dress. Hers was darker than mine. "Mercedes?" I said softly.

"Yes?" she jumped, looking at me with wide eyes.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

She bobbed her head, nodding quickly. "Y-yeah, I'm fine."

She was obviously _not_ fine, but I didn't pry. It wasn't my business, anyways.

The funeral was held outside. A church was way too small to hold the hundreds of thousands of mourners flooding in. We had front-row seats, sitting down after each putting a rose inside the casket. Then it was closed.

A lot of people cried. Amberly stayed strong the whole entire time, holding her son's hand firmly. Mercedes burst into tears in the middle of it, and Kathryn and I held her hand as she wept.

Once it was over, each of the Elite and Maxon and Amberly each were offered a shovel to bury the king.

And with it, I had to bury my emotions.


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

 _"It's not you, it never was," Maxon hissed, looking straight through my soul with his now-cold, detached brown eyes._

 _"M-Maxon?" I whimpered. "What is this? Why are you doing this to me?"_

 _"Because. . ." He leaned forward, yanking on my hair. I cried out, and a cruel smile turned up the corners of his mouth. "Of him." We both turned to see Aspen emerging from the flames encasing us. "Remember him, America?"_

 _"Aspen!" I cried._

 _He shook his head in disappointment, eyes raking up and down my pathetic form. "Look at what you've become. One of the prince's pets; weak. I thought you were better than this."_

 _I looked between the two men I cared most about, torn and bloodied and crying. Broken. "Don't do this to me!" I pleaded. "Maxon! Aspen!"_

 _"Sorry,_ Mer, _" Aspen lashed out, using my name as if it were a dirty word. "You've already abandoned me."_

* * *

"Lady America!" A voice shook me right out of my dream. "Lady America, wake up!" his voice was urgent, barely cutting through the rebel alarms.

 _Rebel alarms._ I was instantly alert as adrenaline began rushing through my system. I sat up and jumped out of bed, sleep long forgotten. "My slippers!" I said. "Get me my slippers! And my robe!"

He looked back at me, with a look that said, _This is a waste of time; we're in a life or death situation here._ But I didn't care. No slippers, no robe, and I would refuse to go down to the safe rooms.

Thankfully the guard seemed to get that I needed this robe and these slippers. In his haste, he knocked down a few things, but eventually got them for me. I looked at his nametag in the dark, which read _Bennett_. I shoved my slippers on and threw my robe on over my thin nightgown.

"Over here!" he ushered me over to my dresser. I was confused; what did my dresser have to do with anything? He shoved it aside and revealed a little panel in the wall. Tearing it down, Bennett revealed a keypad and punched in a long, confusing code.

"Dammit!" he cursed when we heard gunshots on the floor below us and muffled yelling.

There was a beeping noise and Bennett cursed again, this time with a word that most men would never use in front of ladies. I could only assume he'd messed up or forgotten the code.

My eyes darted around the room and I felt skittish, as if the rebels would just burst open through my door. And they very well _could_. I jumped when I felt something ghost across my neck, but realized it was just an errant strand of hair. I sighed in relief, but my thundering heartbeat refused to slow down.

The galloping footsteps, the gunshots, the yells were getting closer. I wished I could tell Bennett to just hurry the hell up, but that would just make him more stressed and more prone to another error.

"Got it!" he said suddenly. I jerked my head in his direction. The keypad was disappearing and the wall was moving aside, revealing another dark, musty staircase leading to one of the safe rooms.

I yelped when the footsteps got ever closer, probably _on this floor_. My eyes watered up and my heart leapt into my throat. Bennett looked at me with wide eyes. "Go, go, go, Lady America! It won't matter if I die; _you_ have to survive!"

"But -" I didn't like this. I didn't like this at all. He shouldn't have to be risking his life just so I could have mine. It seemed so much like something _Aspen_ would do.

 _Aspen . . ._ I thought longingly. But then the tougher part of my brain spoke up _, Your life is on the line here; Aspen can come later!_

" _Lady America_ ," he said sternly. "My life doesn't matter anymore. If anyone should make it out of this alive, it should be _you_. This is what I was trained to do, now _go_!" He shoved me, though not too harshly, before skidding out of my room.

The tears spilled over; my body was too overwhelmed. _Aspen, Aspen, ASPEN. . ._ My mind was chiming over and over, as images of him, of _us_ , flashed through my mind. _Why now?_ I thought. He died over two years ago, and my mind was picking _now_ to bring him back to the surface again?

 _No, no, no._ I shook my head and wiped my hand over my eyes, taking in shallow breaths.

I couldn't get enough air, as much of it as I was furiously gulping in. My legs felt numb, useless. _Not now, America!_ I kept screaming inside my head. Now was not the time to have a full-blown panic attack!

The tears kept coming faster, blurring my vision. I was wheezing now, my lungs felt like they had caught fire, pleading for oxygen. I couldn't comply, my harsh breaths were betraying my body -

"America!" A voice that was not one inside my head burst through the haziness.

"M-Maxon?" I cringed, shrinking back from him. _The dream_...

I felt warm arms wrap around me and his chin resting atop my head. "It's okay, America," he said in a soothing tone. "You're safe now, there is nothing to be crying about. We're all going to be fine. . ."

But I couldn't stop crying. And I couldn't get any air into my system. "America?" Another voice slipped into my conscience, and I recognized it as Mercedes. "You're on the verge of a panic attack, but you can stop it. Listen to me, America. Look into my eyes." I complied, looking into her sweet sapphire eyes. "Breathing is the key. You're shallow-breathing right now, and that has to stop. _Deep breaths_ , now. Deep breaths."

It was hard, but I forced a deep gulp of air in. "That's it, that's right. Now do it again." Mercedes coached me through my panic attack, warding it off entirely before it could even come on. I was amazed at how patient, caring, and good she was being with me.

That was the longest I'd ever been in the safe room. The rebels had not just gotten through the palace gates this time (that was what initially triggered the alarm), but they had gotten _inside_.

From what I found out later, Bennett was severely injured and would likely never walk again. I was relieved, though, that he was alive. Alive and breathing. But others hadn't been so lucky; thirteen guards had been injured and five were dead. On top of that, six rebels were dead, none captured, and the rest had scurried away.

When would this nightmare that had become my life ever end?

* * *

"Unfortunately, ladies," Silvia said as she paced the room, "His Majesty will not allow me to risk your safeties to go out into the public to visit the center for children. The threat of the rebels has gotten too strong. He has allowed me no choice but to replace it with another assignment."

We all glanced at each other nervously. _Uh-oh_.

"To show your complete to this devotion as to-be-future princesses, your next project will be to offer up your most prized possession to some of the most poor citizens of our country. They will be sent up to this palace and it will be broadcast live throughout all of Illéa."

Somehow, this seemed just as intimidating as finding a way to save a business on the brink of closing up.

"In one weeks' time, the _Capital Report_ room will be set up for you and your subjects. I have already given specific instructions to your maids for specific dress and jewelry choices. I bid you all good luck, and you may now have some free time."

"That woman is going mad," Mercedes whispered while she picked up a gossip magazine once Silvia was gone. "She expects us to give up our most prized possession? Come on, what does she take us for?"

"I guess she believes being a princess is all about making sacrifices for your country," I said, picking up a cup of tea gone cold from a tray a maid had brought in a while ago. I shrugged. "I guess that's _one_ way to look at it."

"What a load of moon rock," she muttered, flipping open the magazine.

 _Who is YOUR Favorite Daughter of Illéa?_ The headlines screamed. It then showed our faces next to a percentage of the people rooting for us. I never cared much about these glossy magazines, but now that I was considered a historical figure, maybe I _should_ care.

Mercedes came in first. Kathryn second. Cassiopeia third. Maya Perry fourth. Amy Stevens fifth. Me, sixth. Gwendolyn Pizarro last.

I tried not to feel too disheartened. I was in _sixth_ out of seventh place! I _knew_ that being princess wasn't my life goal, but it was disappointing to hear that your own country would put you on second-to-last. Was it because I wasn't pretty enough? Or because of my caste? Maybe because I was in an ocean full of Twos and a Three. And then me, the lone Five. _Not good enough._

I sighed, shaking my head. I sipped at the tea but made a face. I just wasn't feeling it.

I set the teacup back down and decided to just do. . .nothing.

Since when had I become so useless? I felt like I had become a marionette. With this Selection, my own country and prince and monarchy had attached strings to me, controlling me. . .overtaking me.

I blew out a breath of air and got up. This room would be my demise. "Where you going?" Mercedes asked absently, her gaze focused on the magazine.

"To my room," I replied.

"Eh," she muttered, barely looking up at me. I shook my head and left.

In my room, I ransacked it for something, _anything_ , that I could give up to our poorest civilians. Something of _value_ , not just to me, but in money. But it was so hard. . .Most of these things held so many memories, so much sentimental value. I guess if I were a Two, I'd pick a random piece of expensive jewelry, but for _me_ , it wasn't that easy. Necklaces, bracelets. . .they weren't easy to buy, what with our budget so tight. So when I _did_ get a piece of jewelry, it didn't hold much value to anyone but _me_.

The only things that I had brought with me here were the songbird necklace Daddy had given me, along with the woven bracelet May had made for me years ago. They weren't _cheap_ , but likely wouldn't buy anything of value for my designated citizen.

So I gave up, sprawled on my bedroom floor.

I went through the motions of dinner and escaped to my room. I had taken a bath this morning after the rebel attack to cleanse myself, so I stayed in my evening dress.

"We need to get you ready for bed, miss," Marlee said.

"Go away," I mumbled. My dress was crinkled, in a fan out around my neatly-made bed.

"Miss -"

"I said go!" I pointed to the door, then buried my face in my hands. " _Please_. I'm not in the mood."

Marlee gave me a pained look. I tore my gaze away, not noticing when they curtsied and left.

I sighed and lied down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling and doing nothing. Night fell. The moon was a waning crescent, and with it waned my hope. Not that I'd ever had much in the first place.

I didn't know how much time had passed. My muscles were cramping from staying still so long, my body growing numb. I just looked up at the ceiling, blinking and thinking and blinking and thinking. . .

I started when I heard three soft knocks on my door. I sat up. "Marlee, is that you? Cause if it is -"

"America, it's me." Came Maxon's voice.

My heart leaped. _Why?_ I wondered.

"Oh. C-come in." I said shakily.

The door opened. "I wasn't sure if you'd be awake," he said, running a hand through his mussed hair. "I couldn't sleep."

"I understand the feeling," I murmured. "What brings you here?"

"I realized I've been being selfish," he said. "So I've come to make up for our failed date."

I winced at the thought of that. "Oh, no, Maxon, that was all my fault," I said, remembering our failed date on the roof, when I'd ran off on him. "I was the one who failed."

"Nevertheless, we can make up for it with a do-over." He grinned, holding up a bottle of wine. I eyed it cautiously, but didn't say anything. "C'mon, America, let's do it. We can change history."

"Maxon," I said, holding back a laugh, "We cannot change history."

"Sure we can. As long as we're the only ones to witness it, we can change history." He smiled again. "Anyways, that's not the point. Care to join me on a date?"

I pursed my lips for a second, then nodded. "Alright. I don't have a reason to say no."

His smile widened. "Come on then, what are we waiting for? Let's go."

Maxon's boyish enthusiasm put a smile on my face. As we snuck through the palace grounds, half-asleep guards snapped to attention, bowing as we giggled. He led us to the staircase and gave me a boost up to the roof.

He unfolded a comfy little blanket and we snuggled in. The Angeles air was slowly turning cold and frigid, but it was a slow transition. It was already November. "Oops," Maxon said, frowning. "I forgot wine glasses."

"Who cares?" I said. "We'll just do it the ol'-fashioned way." I uncorked it and took a swig and then handed it to him.

I laughed when he took the tiniest little uncertain sip. "I like the nighttime," he said after a while. "It's quiet and peaceful and the moon and stars come out of hiding. It's a time of resting."

"I always preferred night too," I agreed, looking up at the stars. "I always found the moon and stars more appealing."

"And not half as appealing as you, America." My breath hitched when he ran a hand down my cheek. I took the wine bottle and took a huge gulp, then grabbed Maxon's finger and rubbed it in between my own to stop his motions.

"Your hands are cold," I commented.

"Always," he said. "My hands always seem to be cold."

I rubbed his hand between my own to create friction and hopefully warm them up. "There. Is that better?"

"Much," he replied.

I sighed in contentment, wrapped up in my own little bubble of peace and quiet. I would cherish this moment, for this was a chaotic time in my life. There were not many peaceful moments with Maxon anymore.

"How have things been going?" I asked.

"Pretty rough. I've decided that I'm going to act as the substitue king for now, and with my father dead, and seven girls to tend to. . .I feel like I won't have enough time to date all of you."

"One thing at a time, Maxon," I said. "Don't find time to date girls; _make_ time for it."

"I should," he muttered.

"Don't worry about it now, Maxon," I whispered. "Worry about here and now, this moment. Don't think about anything else."

He sighed. "You're right." I leaned my head on his shoulder, pulling the blanket closer to myself and soaking up the moment. I knew it wouldn't be long before our bubble of happiness was burst by some thing or another.

"I have an idea." I could hear the grin in his voice. He got up, shaking off the blanket. My left side immediately felt cold where he'd previously been. He leant down a bit, holding out his hand. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

I chuckled. "Maxon, I don't think that's the best idea. I don't have good coordination, and with the darkness and alcohol. . .I might send us tumbling."

"I'll catch you if you fall, I promise." He smiled a crooked smile. I bit my lip and tried to ignore the skipped beat of my heart. "Don't be afraid. I'll lead."

"Oh, fine." I said. He took my hand and pulled me up.

"I have an idea." He said. "Take off your shoes."

"Wha -?"

"Just do it, America."

I complied, kicking off my shoes. My toes curled when they touched the bare, cold floor.

"Now step onto my shoes."

I did as told without questioning it. "Are you sure I don't weigh too much?" I asked teasingly.

"Don't bruise my ego, America. I am perfectly capable of holding your weight." We both laughed. "Now wrap your arms around me." He instructed. As soon as I did, I was no longer cold. His body radiated warmth, assurance, safety.

He started out slow, shuffling us around, completely in control. I started humming a tune, and soon he was dancing to its rhythm. "That's a beautiful song," he said into my ear. I shivered, though it had nothing to do with the cold.

"My dad used to sing it to me when I had nightmares as a little girl." I said. "It would always ward them off."

We were silent as I continued humming and he continued leading us around the palace roof, under the safety of the winking moon and stars. It was so peaceful, so _beautiful_ , that it nearly broke my heart.

But then I shifted my toes, and loosened my hold on his neck. And then I fell.

Maxon caught me, but then he fell, too. On top of me.

I burst out laughing, and then so did he. "You promised to catch me," I said breathlessly.

"I did," he said. "Didn't I?"

"Sure," I laughed.

Then the moment became heated. He stared into my eyes, deep, deep into them. Probing into my soul. Our laughter faded into the distance, and then -

" _Maxon_ , what the hell!" I jumped back when his lips met mine, sending a current of sparks throughout my system.

I could feel his face burning from all the way there. "America, I'm so sorry, it was an accident -"

"Shh," I said. "Just shut up, Maxon." And then I laughed again, pressing a finger to his lips. "Don't ruin the moment. Remember this someday and laugh about this sloppy first kiss between us."

And then I heard a gunshot.

* * *

 **A/N: Well. . .a cliffy. Don't worry though, I'll update soon and you'll see where this leads. Leave a review and let me know what you think, please!**


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"Maxon!" I cried as he grunted and pressed a hand to his shoulder.

"America, let's get out of here, _now_! We have to get you to safety!" He grabbed my hand roughly and pulled me down the staircase, just as the shrill noise of the rebel alarm met my ears. I instinctively clapped my hands over my ears and flinched. That sound would haunt me for years to come. . .

Pulse thundering, adrenaline coursing throughout my body, and blood roaring in my ears, I skidded around the palace with Maxon. I was sobbing, naturally, and the only thing pulling me along was Maxon himself. I would've stopped and curled up into a ball if it weren't for him, tugging me, encouraging me.

"Almost there," he muttered, more to himself than me. Then we rounded another corner, revealing what looked like a dead-end. I was about to protest, but then he felt around the wall and hit an invisible trigger, revealing one of the palace's many hidden safe rooms. I gasped, but Maxon pushed me inside before I could react further.

He closed the door, encasing us completely in darkness. I heard his ragged breaths coupled with my own labored breathing. I stopped for a second to take a breather, then slumped down on the wall, letting my eyes adjust.

I could make out crude wooden shelves nailed to the wall, holding a few packages and cans of food and water, dusty and had obviously been there for a while. Below that shelf were a few worn blankets and two flashlights. There were a few hooks on the wall, one of them holding a first-aid kit. In the corner was a rusty little sink and beside it was a bucket that barely passed for a toilet.

I felt him slide down on the wall next to me, and promptly got up and grabbed a flashlight, clicking it on. A bright white beam shot out. "Maxon?" I asked, my voice shaken with terror and adrenaline. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he gasped. "Just one question: can you sow?"

"Of course." It was just one of my many talents-slash-horrors of being a Five. When Kota left and Kenna got married, it was my duty to sow the clothes, since we didn't have all the money in the world to replace our torn clothes. It was up to me to patch up May, Gerad, Mom, Dad, and my own clothes. "Why?" I asked wearily after a beat, realizing it wasn't a totally rational question.

I could make out a sheen of sweat on his face, which was now dangerously pale. "You're going to have to put those skills to use." And then he removed his hand from his shoulder, revealing it covered in thick, crimson blood.

I gasped in horror, clamping a hand to my mouth. The sight made me dizzy and squeamish and I. . . _Oh gosh_. Anything but blood.

He must've sensed the flash of terror in my eyes, because he quickly said, "Don't worry. The bullet only grazed me. . .nothing too serious. Just a few stitches and you'll be done."

"Maxon. . .I. . .I don't think I can. . ." I swallowed hard, gathering my courage, and continued. "I don't think I can do it."

He looked at me firmly. "It's gonna be painful for both of us. But you _can_ and you _have_ to do it." I looked away, my eyes darting anywhere but him. The blood. " _America_." My eyes flashed to his.

"What?"

"Do you what you have to do. Don't think about me or anything else. Fixate yourself _only_ on the task at hand. Understand?"

 _You have to do this, you have to. You can and you will_ , I repeated in my head. Nodding slowly, I forced myself out of my frozen position on the ground and dragged my feet over to the first-aid kit.

I had to keep my voice steady. Here Maxon was, with a bullet graze in his shoulder, about to be stitched up, and _I_ was the one panicking! _Toughen up, America_ , a little part of my brain shouted.

It was only then that I noticed the old-fashioned light bulb hanging from the ceiling with a cord acting as a light switch. I quickly pulled it and the room was bathed in dim, yellow light. It was enough, though.

"We don't know how dirty the bullet was, so I'm gonna have to disinfect the wound." I managed to say it at a steady pace, though I was feeling anything but calm at the moment. "And, um, you're gonna have to take off your shirt for me to do this." I bit my lip.

I saw a flash of sheer panic in his eyes, which made my heart skip a beat. Maxon. . .afraid?

"I'll help you if you need it," I said, keeping my voice gentle. And then I quickly added, "But only if you want me to."

"That's. . .fine. Just help me get out of my suit jacket," he grunted out. I still saw the lingering fear in his eyes, the nervousness in his stance. It made _me_ afraid, too, but I had to stay strong for him. Even if I was only pretending to be strong.

I helped him get his good arm out of the jacket first. The second one was harder. . .and messier. It was sticky with blood, and Maxon was still in grave pain. Every time he grimaced or grunted in pain, I felt a pang straight in the heart, a kick in the gut. His pain was my pain now.

Maxon fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, but he refused to let me help. Again, I had to help get his arms out of the sleeves, and again, it was a slow and painful process for both of us. Underneath that, he had an undershirt, but it was sleeveless, and we both didn't want to go through the process a third time, so we came to a mutual agreement that it would stay on.

He looked relieved, but I suspected it had nothing to do with the fact that we weren't going to have to take off his undershirt. I didn't say anything about it, though.

I opened the first-aid kit and got out an antiseptic wipe. It was relatively new. I fumbled with it in my hands, nearly dropping it once. Then I forced my hands to _steady_. "This is gonna sting, Maxon," I warned. "Do what you have to do to distract yourself. Stare at a certain crack in the wall, hold my hand, look into my eyes to distract you from the pain. I'm sorry there's nothing more I can do, I really am."

He shook his head. "Don't be. I can do this." I suspected he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince me.

"Alright. Here we go. I'm gonna be quick about this to save the pain, but I still have to be thorough. We wouldn't want our prince dying from an infected bullet." My joke fell flat on the ground, so I just proceeded.

He hissed in a sharp breath when I touched the wipe to his open wound, which I tried so hard not to look at. I was sure I would faint, lose concentration, or maybe even puke on him. _Stay focused_.

Like I suggested, Maxon kept his gaze firmly on a spot on my dress where a drop of wine had dribbled down my chin and landed on the dress. I made it quick, and disposed of the wipe when I finished.

"Okay. We're halfway done, Maxon. Now we just have to stitch you up. Like before, I'll be quick to save you any unnecessary pain. You're doing amazing; it'll be over soon." I tried to soothe him with my words. It worked, but I wasn't sure I came through completely.

With shaking hands, I got out the needle and the thread, hoping beyond hope to God that this would be enough. But I knew that sowing clothes was very, _very_ different from sowing together open, human flesh. I cringed at the thought of that, and continued on with my task.

"Ready?" I asked. He found my hand, squeezed. Then he nodded once.

His hand tightened on mine. I felt so bad, so, so bad about this. But the bleeding had to stop somehow, and I had to be the one to stop it. Even if I hated it more than I hated anything else.

Maxon was really brave throughout the whole thing. I was sure I'd be screaming and crying and thrashing if it were me in his place, but he only allowed the occasional groan or sharp exhale to indicate the amount of pain he was in. It only made me intent on working faster, cutting his pain short.

Once I had it done, I cut off the extra thread. I disposed of the needle and grabbed the blankets from the shelf, setting one over us. "How are you feeling?" I asked.

"It's not that bad anymore. But you did a better job than anyone I know could've done. You were so brave. . ."

I exhaled a shaky breath, chuckling nervously. "Oh you don't know _how_ much of a jumbled mess I was. I just had to remind myself to stay strong, stay strong for you. I mean, _you_ were the one with a wound about to go through a huge amount of pain."

"Couldn't have done it without you." He laced his fingers through mine and kissed the back of my hand.

"Maxon?"

"Hm?"

"How's this whole. . .Selection thing working out for you?"

With his free hand, he ran a hand through his hair, an old habit of his. "Well. . .different than I expected. For one, a certain someone came into my home and a young, spirited woman named America busted my windshield." I laughed, waited for him to continue. "As of now, I still have no idea who's gonna be my wife. . .I mean, it's always been part the country's decision and only part of the prince's decision.

"Mercedes is a nice girl. But my feelings for her don't go any deeper than friendly. I think she can see that, but she still plows through. I hope that after this, we can still be friends. I know that she will not be my wife."

I nodded. "Most of the other girls. . .with the exception of Kathryn. . .they don't fall into my 'wife' category. I mean, they'd all be good contenders, and I'm sure they'd be good wives to me, and the country would accept them. . .but none of them have that 'it' factor I'm looking for. I _am_ looking partly to the country for guidance, but it doesn't overrule my need to get a wife that _I_ love, too."

I nodded. "I get that. That's probably what I'd do, too. And what was that 'exception of Kathryn'? Elaborate, please."

"Well. . .my feelings for _her_ go deeper than the surface. I felt it as soon as I saw her picture, you know? I thought it was silly afterwards, but then I met her, got to know her a bit better. . .and she's great. She's probably one of the highest on my list. I can really see us becoming permanent."

Was it strange that I felt a fist clench around my heart? Hearing him speaking about another girl. . .other than me. . .as his wife. . .made me feel angry. And jealous. Why, though?

"But it's too soon to tell," he said quickly, probably taking my silence as a bad thing. "I mean, there could be this _crazy_ turn of events and I might end up marrying Mercedes or Cassie, or. . ." _You_. I could tell it was on the tip of his tongue, but he was afraid to say it.

"Shh," I said. "You're rambling. We _all_ know it's too soon to tell, and we all respect that. That's why we're here. No need to worry about it _now_."

"I'm just scared," he admitted, his voice defeated, lost, scared. "The rebels are getting worse. . .they might be in here right now. I don't think it's likely they'll find our hiding place, but the fear still lingers. It's always looming above us, never receding. Always at the back of my head."

As if to prove his point, there was a _thump_ heard loud enough to penetrate the thick cement walls. I gasped and scooted closer to Maxon, closing the space between us. In turn, he shifted as well and rubbed his thumb over my knuckles.

"It's gonna be alright," he murmured. "It always turns out okay. I promise that, above all, I will keep you safe."

"You don't have to do that, Maxon," I said quietly. "Your country needs you more than it needs me. If anything, _I_ should be the one swearing to keep you safe above everything else. That's how it should be."

Another _thump_ , louder this time. I flinched and my heart rate spiked. Fear was cascading through me, holding me in its cold, unforgiving grip. "I'm scared, Max," I whispered. My lips were quivering. _Not so tough now, are you?_

"We're fine, America. We're going to get out of this alive."

A hot tear squeezed out of my eye, rolling down my cheek.

"You should get some sleep."

A laugh bubbled out of my throat, hysterical. " _Sleep_? Our lives are on the line, here, Maxon, and all you can think about now is _sleep_? Ridiculous! _Absurd_!"

"Shh, America," he coaxed. "You're going to go delirious without sleep. You should at least try. After this is over, there's no going back. You won't be able to sleep at all after this."

"Fine," I said curtly. I got up and grabbed the rest of the blankets from their place on the wooden shelves. I beat the dust out of them and then put them on the floor as a makeshift mattress. It wasn't much, but it wouldn't be as cold or as hard as the solid concrete floor. "This'll do."

There wasn't enough space for us to be spread out, so we had to conserve our space. We lay on our sides, his arms around my waist, his back to my front. His body radiated warmth, and I shuddered.

"That good enough?" he asked, his breath tickling my ear.

I nodded, unable to utter any words.

"Sleep now, my America."

* * *

Death hovered in the shadows. It was pitch-black; I was unable to see even the barest hint of light. With light came comfort, but I didn't have any. So my only comfort was Maxon.

Our little mound of blankets on the floor gave us barely any solace from the hard, cold, unforgiving floor, and one of them covered us. Maxon had never bothered to put his button-up or suit jacket back on. I could feel his prominent muscles around my more dainty, feminine (but by no means weak) arms.

"Don't be afraid, America," he murmured, his voice gentle and soothing.

But how could I not be afraid? Right here, right now, we could both meet our demise, if the rebels were smart enough to get to us. Facing death brought a certain urgency to life; all the little things we'd never done, all the big things we'd put off, suddenly came into sharp focus.

Maxon held me close, his warm lips grazing my hair. I could feel his heartbeat, pounding steady and strong. How could he be this calm when my heart was pounding like a bird trapped in a cage fighting to get out?

His lips brushed over my cheek. I heard him inhaling, taking in my scent. I folded my hands over his, settled on my waist, stroking them absentmindedly. Even here, in the midst of destruction, he still smelled heavenly, his own unique blend of chemicals.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered in my ear again.

Right then, when we both knew the rebels were just the pull of a trigger away from our deaths, the beast inside him called out, chasing away the Maxon I'd come to know. He kissed me all too suddenly, feverishly, desperately, with a hunger and passion I'd never known was possible. Not even Aspen came close to this. I was so scared at the moment, but I still reacted strongly. I responded to the kiss. I wanted to experience life in a different way, to fulfill everything I'd ever missed.

We'd been stripped of everything but the craving to experience anything and everything.

"America." His name ghosted over his lips like an oath.

I felt tremors shudder through me. My heart pounded against my chest so hard it hurt.

"Maxon." I whispered back, with the same intensity carrying in that one word.

"We're going to make this out alive. We are _not_ going to die."

"No, we aren't." He removed one hand from around my waist and began to fiddle with my hair.

"I always loved your hair color. So vibrant, so fiery. . .it is a perfection reflection of who you are as a person. I don't want this to be my last time seeing it."

"It's not," I said fiercely. "We are going to survive this, no matter what. Our deaths will _not_ be tonight, at the hands of the rebels. What a stupid way to die. We can't let that happen."

"No," he agreed. "We can't."

We fell silent again. The blood roared in my ears as I felt his touch everywhere: playing with my hair, memorizing the planes of my face, my shoulders, what little curves I had. Exploring it for the first time and might very well be the last.

 _No!_ I thought quickly. _You can't think like that_. The rebels weren't smart enough to get to us. They _wouldn't_. I strongly believed that we could beat them at their own game and we could do this. We _would_ do this.

No matter what.

I snuggled closer to Maxon, relishing in his warmth. With that, I let myself drift off.

* * *

Light flooded my eyes, burning them from the unexpected shift from total darkness to bright light.

Then voices. Muffled. Then: "Your Majesty? Lady America?" A voice cut above all the others. "I found them! They're alive!"

I sat up, suddenly self-conscious. My hair must be a mess, my dress completely rumpled, and Maxon only had his undershirt on. . .how must _that_ look? I cringed.

We were alive.

We'd made it. The rebels hadn't gotten to us.

"Your Majesty," he said. "We were concerned that you weren't down at the main safe room. What happened?"

"We were on the roof," he explained quickly, going out to retrieve his button-up and throwing it on. "When we heard a gunshot. The bullet grazed my shoulder, and there wasn't enough time to get down to the main safe room, so we had to come here. America stitched me up and we slept here."

I hoped he got it that he meant nothing _but_ sleeping.

He nodded, knowing it wasn't his business to pry.

"Any casualties?" Maxon barked.

"Nineteen guards dead, sir, and eight more injured. Fifteen of the staff were also killed."

He gave a sigh of frustration.

"Is my mother here?" Maxon suddenly asked.

"Of course. She's worried sick about you."

"Where is she?"

"In her office, Your Majesty," he replied.

"Thank you. . ." he squinted at the nametag. "Stone. Thank you, Officer Stone. You are dismissed."

The guard gave a quick bow and retreated.

Maxon helped me up, draping his suit jacket over his good arm. He sighed. "Rebel cleanup is going to be hell. I've got to get to work." I stood there, and he looked back at me. "I won't be at breakfast. Or lunch, probably."

"That's okay. You go do what you have to do." I said. I couldn't help but feel a loss of what we'd had last night. I couldn't imagine what direction this would go; either things would heat up or be quashed and become incredibly awkward.

He walked over to me, helping me out of the safe room once and for all. "We made it through the night, Ames. We beat the rebels." That brought a smile to my face. Then his face went into princely mode. "I have things to do; I can't put them off anymore. I'll see all of you as soon as I get the chance." He bent down to kiss my cheek.

I nodded. "Go, then."

We went our separate ways.

I wandered around aimlessly, probably in shock of last night. Images flashed through my head, taunting me. I liked to believe then that what was happening was something real, but now it hung just out of reach. Tangible, definitely there, but unreachable. _Frustrating._ It was only our primal side showing, and now that our lives were in the clear, they'd been buried deep inside again. I didn't know if last night was true.

Finally, I ambled back to my room. Marlee had a tray of perfect sunny-side up eggs and a piece of toast with a side of strawberries tossed in honey and a tall glass of water. She curtsied when I came in.

"It's not much, I know, but it was all the kitchens were offering up, up until that time," she said nervously, as though I'd turn it down and demand something more luxurious.

I grabbed the tray and put it on my desk, then threw my arms around her. "Marlee!" I squealed. "You're alive! Thank goodness, I'm so glad you made it. I heard fifteen of the staff were killed and I was so afraid. . ."

She squeezed me back, though it probably wasn't proper etiquette to be hugging maids. This could be an exception, though. "I'm glad we both made it, too, America." She said simply, though there was a lot more to the words. When we pulled apart, she handed me the tray. "Now eat up."

Though it was hard and I didn't particularly feel like eating, I managed to eat it all.

I just had one nagging question: Was last night real?


	17. Chapter 16

**A/N:** So I realized how utterly stupid I was being, and the reviews I got made me realize that. You guys are all awesome and I wanna give all you guys hugs! I plan on finishing this story and letting people decide on their own if they want to take this journey with me. So, without further ado, I give you Chapter 16:

Chapter 16

"You'll do fine, miss," Marlee assured me, without the barest hint of doubt in her voice marring it. "I believe it. I believe in _you_."

"Thanks," I said shakily. "I hope so."

She gave me a peck on the cheek. "I'm proud of you. Now, go."

With that, she gave me a gentle nudge towards the door. I looked back once, with my hand on the doorknob, and she flashed me a smile. I took a deep breath and opened the door, adjusting the necklace I'd be giving up as a sign of my loyalty to my country.

I walked down to the _Report_ stage, where most of the Elite and the queen and prince were, along with several other people making last-minute adjustments. It was chaos. No sooner had I stepped in than a woman with a tight bun, glasses, and a blazer grabbed me by the elbow and steered me towards one of the seven chairs. I was in the first chair, meaning I'd go first.

 _Great_. Luck was not on my side tonight.

Kathryn was beside me, looking relaxed and very princess-like. I was envious of how easy this would be for her. "Just relax," she said suddenly. "Imagine it's only you in the room. No cameras, no Elite, no prince or queen or country watching your every move. Trust me, it's hard, but it helps."

"How?" I asked. "How can you imagine that no one is watching you when they are? How is it so easy to forget?"

"It's not. But if you really concentrate, you can convince yourself that it's just you."

"Thanks for the advice," I said. "I needed it."

"Well, good luck, America." Her tone was sincere, but I couldn't tell if it was genuine. For all I knew, she was giving me the recipe to disaster. "You can do it."

I just nodded, fighting the urge to gnaw at my lip. Unable to utter any words.

"We're live in five. . .four. . .three. . .two. . .one. . ." called out the floor director.

Gavril gave out all the introductions, but I was barely listening. My heart was pounding, I was so nervous. _This sucked_.

"And here we have the beautiful Lady America representing Carolina, first up," Gavril gestured to me. I smiled and waved, I hoped convincingly, and stood up. This was the moment of truth. I went to the middle of the floor and a girl who could be no more than fifteen knelt before me. Her hair and face were dirty and grimy, her clothes tattered and worn. Her ribs were sucked in, and she was so thin. I fought to keep my face straight. "Tonight, Miss America is here, to show her loyalty and the sacrifices she will make as a worthy candidate as a princess of Illéa. Lady America, I present to you Miss Jacqueline Mendoza, an orphan."

I'd practiced this so many times. I knelt, too, my dress pooling around me, and unclasped my necklace. _No one is here but you_ , I thought to myself. No cameras, no Elite, no prince or queen or country. It was just me and Jacqueline.

"Jacqueline, tonight I give you this offering as a sign of my loyalty to my country. Do you accept?" I managed to keep my voice from cracking, but I wasn't sure if it was strong or powerful as it should be.

"Yes, Your Grace," she squeaked. "I accept."

She lowered her head as I clasped the necklace around her own neck, a stark contrast to her grisly appearance.

I was done. I did it.

Gavril thanked me and introduced Kathryn to the floor.

I sat back down, coaxing my heart rate to calm down. It was over and I had done it. I just had to hope it was enough. Enough for everyone.

 _Since when had it become so important to impress everyone?_ said a little voice in my head.

I shook off the thought and continued watching. I was impressed and intimidated when everyone did so well, looking so regal and so princess-like. I was so out of this.

It was over much quicker than I would've anticipated. Gavril wrapped it up quickly, and we all stood and bowed. Then it was over, the cameras shutting off. For good.

Maxon came over to me first, and I couldn't help but think I was his first option because I did the worst and needed consoling. What if I did do terribly and completely failed? Did this mean I was out of the competition?

"You did great," he said, squeezing my shoulder.

"Thanks," I muttered. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Why not?" he asked, confused.

I scoffed. "Did you _see_ the others? I feel so inferior compared to them."

"Nonsense," he said, waving off the comment. "I think that what the country wants to see is someone who can do as good or maybe better than Kamber at being princess. I think _you_ are her competitor."

I felt a twinge at hearing Kamber's name. She reminded me so much of Aspen. Aspen, dead. . .

"Let's take a walk," he said. "I think we need more than a few words to convince you of how great you did."

"Doubt it," I muttered. "Where shall we take a walk then, Your Imperial Highness?"

He chuckled. "Gardens? They used to be one of my favorite places to get my mind off things before I became too busy."

"Sure. Gardens are nice."

So I linked my arm through his, and we went to the gardens. The guards manning the doors immediately bowed and opened the doors for us, but warned us not to stay too long because we never knew when the rebels would decide to strike. And so we went.

There was an abundance of flowers and plants and shrubs everywhere, creating a sort of maze. The whole place had a sweet, floral scent that wasn't so strong that it assaulted my nose. It was pleasant. I found myself liking it. "I can kind of see why you like the gardens now," I noted.

He nodded. "I thought you'd like it, too." He led me over to a wooden bench. "And this is my Thinking Bench. I used to sit on here and dwell over my life. It was nice to get out all of my thoughts and worries out here."

We both sat on the bench. I ran my hand over the smooth, weather-worn wood. I liked that it wasn't polished to a glossy finish; it was one of the few things left untouched here.

"So tell me, America. Why do you doubt your abilities to awe the country?" he asked.

"You might think I'm great, but you're just being biased. I'm sure I didn't completely screw _everything_ up, but I'm not so sure I did as good as any of the others." I didn't dare meet his eyes; I was afraid of what I'd find.

"Why does it have to matter so much?"

"Because without the country's approval, what am I? That's right. Nothing."

"I meant it when I said that if Kamber knew you, she'd be intimidated. You are one fierce woman, America. That much I know."

I suddenly couldn't take it anymore. I looked up, to find Maxon looking back down at me with a gentle, understanding look in his eyes. "Has it ever occurred to you, Maxon, that I knew Kamber?"

He looked taken aback. "What? What do you mean?"

I smiled, though it was forced and tight-lipped. "I mean that we came from the same province. Her family were Sixes, and we were Fives. We lived near each other, so sometimes they'd help clean up our house."

Shock was all that registered. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Maxon, I think it's time I open up to you. About everything." I took a deep breath, keeping my eyes trained to my lap. "I've been hiding something big from you since this Selection started. Kamber has an older brother, Aspen. We dated for some time, but he never proposed because he was afraid to make me a Six like him: hungry, dirty, always worrying, never completely satisfied. But once Kamber got into the Selection, and the paychecks started coming in, money no longer was a problem. So nothing was holding him back.

"Then Aspen decided to propose to me. I accepted, of course. Things really started to look up when Kamber got into the Elite and seemed to have you wrapped around her little finger. And then she made it to the final two.

"Aspen and his family all flew to Angeles to be there with her, support her. But then there was that huge rebel attack that killed off your fiancée. . .and my fiancé."

I was afraid to look up, but I forced myself to. His jaw was clenched, his usually warm brown eyes were now hollow.

"So you're telling me that this _whole_ entire time you've been _lying_ to me? America, I. . .I don't know what to say."

"Maxon, I'm sorry. I was just afraid."

" _Afraid_?" he ran a hand through his hair. "I thought that this was _real_ , America. I thought what we had was genuine. I thought that I could _trust_ you, but this is telling me that I can't trust you anymore. How many more lies are you hiding from me, then? How long do you intend to keep these from me, huh?"

"You _can_ trust me! And that - that was nothing! I don't _lie_ to you!" I felt a twinge of regret, but also anger.

"How can I know that, huh? What if this is just another one of your lies? How do you expect me to accept that that is the truth? God, America! This _whole_ time, I've been fooled. I guess I should've known."

I stood up, fists clenched. "Alright, Maxon, you are plain overreacting now. It's not that big of a deal, and I am _not_ hiding anything from you! _I_ am the one who was to go through the pain of watching you date several girls at a time. Why can't _you_ take something this simple?"

"It isn't simple!" He got up, too, towering over me. I refused to flinch or back down. "Far from simple. One lie can destroy everything, and it did. I don't know what to do with you anymore."

"Fine!" I put my hands against his chest and pushed, but he didn't even budge. I was itching to take a step back, but forced myself to hold my ground. "Fine, then! Kick me out of this damn competition! Humiliate me on live television, _I don't care!_ I don't care anymore, Maxon. This whole competition is stupid, and I should've known what I was getting myself into."

A flash of hurt crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced with anger. "Maybe I should! America, you cannot talk to me like that, I am the prince! And I'll be damned if I let a little _Five_ talk back to me like that! You _will_ follow my rules, and I don't care if you don't like it! I advise you to go pack your bags and get ready for your plane, _Lady_ America."

"So you'd _really_ use your own power to drag me down? Wow, Maxon. _Wow_. It was _so_ nice to meet you, Your Majesty."

And so I ran off. I ran off with tears in my eyes, ignoring the looks of concern on the guards' faces as I ran past them. I ran straight into my room, kicking off my heels and jumping into bed.

"Miss?" Marlee said cautiously, approaching me slowly.

"No!" I said. "I want to be left alone right now. _Please_."

They seemed to understand and left, without even curtsying. And that was just as well, because a low Five like me didn't deserve to be curtsied to. I didn't deserve _anything_.

I should've known that Maxon was too good to be true, and our relationship was too fragile to ever go by. I couldn't believe that he would let something _so simple_ as a confession about my dead fiance get in between us. He had destroyed everything we'd built. Just like that.

Guess it didn't matter whether I'd disappointed my country. I was going home, no doubt.

I remembered my pack containing my elimination clothes. I grabbed it out from its hiding spot in a corner of the closet, hidden in the masses of chiffon and tulle and whatnot. I got the skirt and blouse and went into the bathroom, stripping out of my dress and putting on the familiar, comforting clothes.

I slept in the clothes. Dinner was sent to me by a maid, but I didn't touch it even though I was hungry. It would seem like an offense for my last meal at the palace to be like _this_.

I think I cried myself to sleep, because I don't remember really falling asleep. I spent the next day in my room, wallowing in my own self-pity and hardly touching the food sent to me. I sent my maids away, and didn't dare to change out of my clothes.

By the third day, I took a quick shower, declining myself the pleasure of a warm bath with scented oils and rose petals. I decided today that the clothes I'd been wearing for the past two days were unacceptable, so I put on one of the simpler choices of my wardrobe, a strapless jean dress with stud earrings and plain white pumps. I put my hair in a French braid and left my face without makeup. It was a far cry from my maids' exquisite work, but it was good enough.

I was just wondering why Maxon hadn't sent me home yet. What was the point now, anyway? We were damaged beyond repair now. Nothing could fix us.

I heard a knock at the door, hurried and urgent. I really wasn't in the mood, but I wrenched the door open anyway.

"Lady America!" Silvia, for once in her life, looked disheveled. Her hair was out of place, her makeup a bit smeared, her clothes wrinkled.

"Yes?"

"Emergency meeting in the Great Room. Now!"

"Now?"

"Yes, now! Hurry!" she said. Silvia looked down at my clothes once. When I didn't budge, she said, "If I say now, then it means _now_! I don't even have time to rush you out of those deplorable clothes."

Those words got me unstuck from the floor. If she didn't have me hurry into the nearest 'acceptable' dress, then it _must_ be urgent. "Alright, I'm coming."

She curtsied once and rushed off.

I put my little bag back in its corner among the mounds of fabric of dresses I'd never use, and hurried off to the Great Room. At the entrance, two guards tilted their heads respectfully and opened the massive gilded doors.

And there were cameras. There were three raised thrones with an ornate table. Maxon occupied the highest chair in the middle, and Kathryn and Mercedes were on his left and right. It was like a sting to the heart to see him smiling and laughing with Mercedes.

But I wouldn't let it bother me. At least, I wouldn't let it show on the surface. I'd suffer in pain and let it out later. When I was alone.

I gasped when I saw the eliminated Selected. Layla, Kalian, Tara, _everyone_ was there. I even caught sight of Amberly, speaking animatedly to her sister, Adele. Her children were all seated there, all seven of them.

Silvia ushered me over to one of the empty chairs.

I stared blankly, shell-shocked, as Maxon stood up, smiling regally and. . . _happily_. A shrill voice in my head shouted, _How dare he?_ Maybe he was a better actor than I gave him credit for. Maybe it was all an act. He never liked me, much less loved me.

I blinked back unexpected tears. My feelings for him ran much deeper than I'd expected to happen when I first came here. I didn't love him, but _like_ wasn't nearly a strong enough term for what I felt. After everything, and this is what it came to.

"Good evening, Illéa. I hope you've all been having a great day, and for those who haven't, it's just about to get much better. For I, your prince, am about to announce your future princess tonight."

There were gasps around us, for those who didn't know, but I guess most of us were assuming this was it. This was the end.

"I know it's been hasty, but recent events have made me realize who my true, real wife is destined to be.

"This Selection has been a whirlwind for me. I came into it, clueless and with no idea what I was doing. But all of these girls guided me through it, and a few stood out amongst others. I am grateful for my faithful country helping me through it all: my first Selection, my first fiancée's death, my father's death, and now my second Selection. I am forever indebted to you.

"Now I won't draw this out, because I'm sure that you are all as excited to hear who my future wife is as I am to announce it." He knelt, but didn't turn to who he was proposing to. Then he turned to. . .Mercedes. "Mercedes, will you be my future princess, wife, and Queen of Illéa?"

Before Mercedes could say anything, though, she dropped to the floor, dead, as a gunshot rang throughout the Great Room.

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry for the cliffhanger! But the next chapter is up, so there's no wait necessary!


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

It was chaos. Absolute, mass chaos.

An explosion rang out throughout the entire Great Room. Gunshots exploded everywhere. There were screams, chairs were being knocked over, people were tripping over each other. Others were falling, dying.

Chunks of the ceiling and debris began raining down as the aftershock of the explosion began. Plaster stuck to my hair, my dress, the floor shook beneath me. I ran, making a beeline for a little four-year-old boy who I recognized as one of Adele's sons. He was crying, and vulnerable to the bullets flying everywhere and the falling debris.

I picked him up and began running for the French doors leading outside to the garden. Beyond that would be a forest, but only a small section of it would be inside the walls of the palace. It would have to do.

I was conscious of the bullets still ringing out. I was still exposed, but I had to protect this little child in my arms. He held more value than I did at the moment.

I wrenched the doors open and ran out, kicking off my heels, which were only slowing me down now more than helping me. They were left somewhere in the Great Room amid the chaos.

I started running at full speed, trying to coax the little boy in my arms into quieting down. He was inconsolable, though, and he was wailing loudly. I ran even faster, pushing my legs to their limit.

"America!" a voice shouted. I turned and saw Marlee, rushing towards me, panting and holding her side.

"Marlee!" I shouted back. I let her catch up to me, and then we kept running towards the forest. Once we were in the safety of the trees, hiding us, we collapsed.

"Why do you have a small child in your arms?" she asked through pants.

"Adele's son. I couldn't leave him," I responded.

She nodded, and we went silent again to catch our breaths. Finally, I broke the silence. "Do you think he's okay?"

"Who?" she asked.

"Maxon."

"The guards' first priority is always the royal family. I'm sure he made it." A pause, and then, "What happened between you two?"

I sighed, resigned. "Well. I told him a secret I'd been keeping since the beginning of this Selection, and he went all ballistic on me and totally broke my heart. He destroyed our relationship, basically."

"I'm sorry," she whispered quietly. "I really thought you two could do this."

"Who was I kidding this whole time?" I laughed hysterically. "I can't believe I fooled myself into thinking that it could actually _work_ between us. How stupid! It came at too high of a price, and I couldn't pay it. Now it's over. I'm sure that once everything is back in order, he'll send me back home."

"He'll come around," she reassured me. "I promise. He always does. I know that Prince Maxon makes a lot of mistakes, but he can always admit to it and fix it."

"I'm sure _I_ was a mistake."

The child jumped out of my arms. He'd calmed down enough and wanted to get into Marlee's arms. She took him in without a word. "America, don't say that. You came in here for a reason. You made it into the Elite for a reason. I saw the way he looked at you; it wasn't a lie that what he felt for you was real."

"Still, though, it's too complicated now to fix this. I'm sure he's not all too willing to take me back with a simple 'sorry'. It's going to take a lot."

"If you really care for each other, you'd be willing to take each other back. I'm sure one apology won't fix everything, but if you guys are meant to be together, then you would do anything it takes to get each other back."

"I'm sure I'd like for things to get back to normal, and I'd be willing to fight for it, but I'm not so sure that's the case with Maxon. Three days after we. . .break up or whatever, he's ready to announce his fiancée to the world."

"He's probably just hurting. People who are hurting do impulsive things that don't really matter. I'm sure he wants you back too."

I shook my head. "That's a lot of speculation, Marlee. All we can do is hope, since the rebels don't seem to like _any_ of Maxon's fiancées."

She giggled. "That's true. I get that they didn't like Kamber because she was a Six and Maxon was a One, but. . .Mercedes? I have no idea why they'd want to target her. I mean, she's gorgeous, she's a Two, perfect princess material. . ." I glared at her, and she trailed off.

We stayed silent for a while, and the child fell asleep in Marlee's arms. The afternoon sun was starting to lower, and my stomach was grumbling. We had no way of knowing if the palace was safe and the rebels eradicated, and we also couldn't communicate the fact that we were safe. How would anyone find us? Would we just be here, _trapped_ , forever?

I sure hoped not. What a terrible way to die.

The sun dipped lower, closer to the horizon. Still no sign of anyone or any _thing_. No one was coming to rescue us. No one could tell us if we could come out of our hiding place. It was something akin to agony.

The little boy woke up again, fussing and crying uncontrollably. He was probably scared or hungry or wanted his momma, or all of the above. We couldn't get him to calm down, no matter what.

Suddenly we started to hear footsteps and muffled voices. Marlee and I shot to our feet, and I winced. My muscles hadn't been in use for so long that when I suddenly moved them, it hurt.

Then we saw several guards. "There they are!" They sounded relieved. They began speaking into their walkie-talkies. "Lady America, Miss Marlee, you're safe now. The rebels have been eliminated."

"Is Maxon okay?" I asked over the boy's wails.

"One of the bullets caught him," said a guard. "He lost a lot of blood before anyone could find him and drag him to the hospital wing. He's in surgery right now, and we don't know if he's going to be okay or not."

My heart sank to my feet. It _had_ to be Maxon who got shot.

The guards took us back to our rooms, where we'd be staying. The Selection was too dangerous to continue, and with Maxon's life hanging in the balance, we couldn't continue it even if we wanted to. And with the rebels still at large, we couldn't go home either. It was too risky.

Nobody was coming in or going out of the palace until further notice.

* * *

 **A week later**

Life was miserable. My appetite was sloshing down the drain, and I could only pick at my food. Maxon was alive, but he was in a coma and nobody knew when he would wake up. It was as if he didn't _want_ to wake up.

Nobody was allowed to visit him. His life was in limbo, and nobody wanted to talk much about him. Or anything, for that matter.

I conversed back and forth with my family through letters. I kept the letters safe in a drawer and read them when I hit rock bottom. My world had been turned upside down since I met Maxon, and now here I was. I had no chance of ever being normal again.

I was in my room, picking at my food. I didn't feel much like eating or conversing with anyone. I wanted to suffer alone, to not have to put on a show for everyone. I didn't have the energy to even do that anymore.

I had just finished with a steaming bath. My clothes were laid out for me. I took my nightgown and rubbed the steamed window, rubbing off the condensation.

And then I screamed.

And then _he_ screamed.

Maxon was behind me. He was showing up behind my reflection. I turned, and he wasn't there. But I could hear his scream! I turned back around, and there he was again.

"Lady America?" Marlee called.

"I'm fine!" I said back. Then I turned to Maxon's reflection again. " _Maxon_?"

"Better believe it, sweetheart." He smiled crookedly.

"But. . .but I. . .but you're in a _coma!_ "

"I'm pretty sure I'm right here," he gestured around us, looking at me like I were crazy. Maybe I _was_ crazy.

"Leave me alone!" I said. "You're not real, you're not here! You are in a hospital bed in eternal sleep. It's just my mind playing tricks on me."

"Hello." He pointed to himself. "Standing right here, you know. _Me_. Maxon."

I punched the mirror so hard it cracked. "Ouch!" I hissed, grabbing my knuckles and shaking them out. That _hurt_. I looked back to my reflection, and I was alone again.

I dressed in my nightgown and crawled into bed, hoping to get a full night's sleep. Sleep deprivation was making me delusional. Making me see Maxon, who wasn't really there.

* * *

The next morning he was at the foot of the bed.

I screamed, and my maids jumped. "D-do you see that?" I asked, pointing. "Do you see _him_?"

"See what?" Marlee followed my gaze, passed it right over Maxon. "See what, miss?"

"N-nothing. Can you guys please leave for a minute? Just send my breakfast up, please."

"Of course." They quickly left me alone.

"What are you doing?" I hissed. "Why are you here?"

"There's a reason I'm appearing here," he said impatiently. "I'm just waiting patiently - or as patiently as I can - for you to realize why."

"Why can't you just tell me?" I asked, frustrated. "Why am _I_ the only one who can see you? Have I gone crazy?"

"Not yet. And I can't tell you why you're seeing me when no one else can, because you have to figure that out yourself for reasons I cannot say. _You_ have to be the one to do it. No one else can."

I grabbed a pillow. "Get out of my head, get _out_ of here! Leave me the hell alone! I want nothing to do with this _nonsense_!" I threw the pillow at him, but it passed straight through him. I gasped.

He shook his head. "You don't yet understand the enormity of this, innocent, naïve little girl that you are. But soon. And I am _not_ leaving." And he disappeared.

* * *

Maxon was everywhere.

That night I took a shower. When I came out and wrapped my towel around myself, there he was, sitting expectantly on the toilet seat.

I got into my nightgown. When I opened the door, there he was sitting on my bed.

I went under the covers after a few minutes of reading. I gave up and threw the book across the room, unable to concentrate. I turned down the lights, but not completely off. And there he was, blending in with my bookshelf.

"You know what? That's it! I have had it with you!" Putting on my robe and slippers, I stormed out of the room.

Down to the hospital wing, I wrenched the door open and stomped inside. "Where is this palace's psychic?" I demanded to no one.

"Ma'am, you're not allowed to be in here," a kind doctor said. "Not when the prince is in a coma."

He was behind me, I could feel it. But I could also see the _real_ Maxon, lying in a bed with multiple wires and machines hooked up to him. There was even a machine _breathing_ for him. The sight made my heart ache.

"See, sweetheart?" Spirit Maxon behind me said. "That is me. Hanging between life and death."

I fought the sudden urge to cry.

"I'm sorry, Doctor," I said through the lump in my throat. "I don't know what's gotten into me. I'll just go now." I knew it was pointless to tell him I'd seen Maxon's spirit and nobody else could, 'cause he would probably throw me in a loony bin.

I went back into my room, defeated. "Goodnight, Spirit Maxon," I whispered.

"Goodnight, sweetheart." he whispered back. "See you soon."


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

The next morning when I woke up, Spirit Maxon wasn't there.

I let my maids get me ready for the day without complaint and went down for breakfast. Most of the girls ate breakfast in their rooms, but today I saw the queen, Kathryn, Cassiopeia, Layla, Kalian, and a few others sitting at the table.

Breakfast consisted of crepes filled with some sort of chocolate filling, along with fruit and thick chocolate milk. One thing that would never let me down was the palace food.

"Congratulations on making it to the Elite," someone beside me said. I looked up, surprised to see Layla speaking to me.

"Oh, um, thanks," I said.

I ate my breakfast slowly and deliberately, until it was just me and Queen Amberly. I could tell she was completely devastated. She had lost a husband, she couldn't lose her son, too. It would break her.

"He'll make it, Your Highness," I said suddenly, surprised at myself. "He's always been strong."

She looked up at me. "I know, Miss America," she said sadly. "I just hope he'll come back to us soon."

"He will." I hope it sounded reassuring enough.

I left my empty plate and mug and went to visit the gardens. I took in the comforting scent of flowers, standing there looking, for a few moments, taking in the beauty of it. Then I caught sight of Maxon's Thinking Bench, feeling a twinge. This was where everything started falling apart at the seams.

I sat down on it, closing my eyes for a second and just breathing -

"Ah!" I jumped when Spirit Maxon appeared beside me. "Why are you still here?"

"Honestly? Because I feel like I'm gonna have to remind you that you have a quest to fulfill."

"Why am I the only one who can see you?" I asked.

"Don't ask me. Maybe because my spirit was drawn to you, because _you_ are the only one who can fix this."

"You're not trying to ask me to help you wake up, are you? Because if you are, you're insane. I don't know how the _hell_ I'm supposed to wake up a comatose prince. I'm no doctor."

"Look, there are two possibilities. Either the supernatural has happened and my body has sent my spirit out to fix things, and it sent me to _you_ to help me. Or you're crazy and you're sitting here talking to yourself."

"I think I like the first option better," I muttered.

"Good. We're going to see me. Follow my lead." He got up.

"Wait, what? I'm not allowed to see you!"

"We can get in," he assured me.

I followed Spirit Maxon into the palace again, hurrying to keep up with his longer strides. We made it into the hospital wing and I walked in. "Doctor? Can I come in?" I called out.

The kindly doctor came out again. "Ma'am, I told you, visitors are restricted unless blood-related."

I did the first thing that happened: I burst into tears. "Please, Doc! I'm dying not seeing Maxon! It's killing me! Please just let me visit him for a little!"

He looked torn. "Fine. Fifteen minutes. That's all I'm giving you."

"That's fine. I can do with fifteen minutes." I managed to calm down my unexpected outburst, wiped at my eyes and gave him a watery smile. "Thanks, Doc."

He nodded and left.

Spirit Maxon and I walked into Maxon's very own room. It was filled with balloons and get-well cards and plants and souvenirs. So much so that it became absurd. I knew Maxon wouldn't like this.

Spirit Maxon looked down sadly at his own unresponsive body. "How can I wake you up?" I asked.

He shook his head slowly. "We need to find a way to. . .put myself together again," he said, sounding kind of unsure of himself.

"Um, good. That's great. And how do we do that?"

"Maybe I should. . .try this. . ." He walked over to his bedside and leaned down. He laid his spirit self on his body, I guess to become one with himself again. Nothing happened. Nothing changed.

"Something's happening!" I said, grasping at straws. The numbers on his machine was changing, gradually going up. "Yeah, I think it's working!"

"Yeah?" I recoiled a bit when his spirit head came out of his real head, but then he frowned, rolling his shoulders. "No. Lemme try again." He retreated back into his body.

"I mean, you gotta really focus on it. Hold on in there."

"Ugh." He got back up. "It's not working. My spirit self is not sticking to my body. It's like we're no longer connected."

"Alright, uh. . ." A lightbulb went off in my head. "Oh! Turn around."

"Excuse me?"

"Turn around. I just want to try something." Slowly, he turned his back on me, and it was just me and Maxon's useless body. Making sure Spirit Maxon wasn't going to turn back around, I leaned down and grabbed one of his pale, cold hands and stroked it once, twice. "Did you feel that?" I asked.

"My hand. It tingled." Spirit Maxon turned to face me again.

"You _are_ still connected," I realized.

"The monitor doesn't seem to agree with that," he said, shaking his head.

"Monitors don't know everything," I argued.

"It just doesn't. . .feel that way. . ."

"Then how are we having this conversation?" I asked.

"I don't know," he said softly. Frustrated.

"Miss Singer?" a voice said. The doctor was back. "I'm sorry, but your fifteen minutes are up."

"No!" I said frantically. "Please. . .just a few minutes to say goodbye?"

"Okay," he said finally, after a few moments of silence. He closed the door again.

"My aunt and mother and cousins must've done this for me," he said, gesturing to all the cards and balloons and gifts scattered around his own personal ward. He turned back to me. "Thank you for helping me."

"You're welcome," I said, smiling wistfully at Spirit Maxon. "Do you, um, wanna come back to my room with me?"

"I don't know. It would feel weird to leave my body here. I don't know where else I belong." He looked at me sadly.

It couldn't have been more than a minute since the doctor left, and suddenly he was back, popping his head through the door. "Miss Singer, I'm sorry. Your time's up."

I looked from Spirit Maxon down to his body. The doctor was waiting expectantly. "Goodbye, Maxon," I whispered, then turned and walked away.

"Goodbye," he called back out to me.

The door closed.

* * *

 **Spirit Maxon POV**

Two little people came running through the hospital wing; my cousins! Braelynn and Gracie, accompanied by my mother and Aunt Adele.

"Beat ya!" Braelynn said.

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!" They were hanging over my body, arguing. Touching me unconsciously. So how was it that I could feel it when America touched me, but not when my cousins did?

"I thought I told you two not to come in here _running_ and _screaming_ ," Aunt Adele said. My mother just stood there smiling. Oh, how I missed my mother. . .yearned for her comforting touch, her soothing words. . .

The two sisters conversed quietly among themselves, until the same doctor who'd kicked America out came in. "Your Highness? My name is Dr. Ashlar. Mind speaking out in the hallway for a second?"

"Not at all," my mother said.

Curious, I followed them out into the hallway.

"First of all, I hope you know how much we all miss our beloved prince," the doctor started out. I snorted. He probably said that about everyone. Of course, he didn't hear me.

"And because he's our prince, we've taken some extraordinary measures to make him feel more comfortable. And, well, this is hard to say. When we come to work here, we are asked to sign release forms."

"Okay," my mother said uncertainly.

"Did you know about your son's opinion on artificially-sustained life?"

"No." She shook her head.

"He was strongly opposed to it."

"Really?"

"That was before!" I said frantically. "I am for it now!" Nobody heard me, of course.

"Honestly, most of us feel the same way."

"Not me! I'm perfectly fine with it now!" I shouted, hoping somebody out there would hear me. "Come on, Mom, I'm your _son_! You've got to _feel_ me!"

"But, there's still some brain activity, right, Doctor?" she asked. "People in comas have woken up before, haven't they?"

"Not on any record I've found," the doctor said.

"His Highness did sign a release form, but because of the special. . .circumstances, we'll take any terminal action, but only with your explicit approval. I've prepared this paperwork. If you decide to sign it -"

"Don't do it, Mom! Don't!" I yelled.

"I'll think about it," she said.

"Thank you, Mom," I whispered.

* * *

 **America POV**

The room seemed strangely empty without Spirit Maxon. "Are you here?" I called out.

Nothing.

"Guess not." I muttered.

I took lunch in my room again, feeling lonely without Spirit Maxon's presence nagging at me. Dinner was taken in my room again. I took my nightly bath, expecting for him to show up in my mirror. Still he didn't show up.

In bed, I couldn't seem to fall asleep. So I decided, _Screw it_. I jumped out of bed, put on my slippers and robe, and left the safety of my room.

The rebels had been strangely quiet since they had almost killed Maxon and had successfully killed Mercedes. I couldn't figure out why, though. Was it their goal to plunge this country into chaos, killing their king and making their prince unavailable, and their queen depressed? Was this what they'd been planning from the start? Basically they were destroying everything our ancestors had built for us.

I went into the kitchens and got a glass of water with a ton of ice, and went back to my room sipping on it. "Whoa! Maxon!" I said when I realized he was in there.

"Yeah," he said.

"I thought you weren't going to come back. I thought you were going to stay with your body."

"America, it's terrible. They're trying to get my mother to sign papers to get me off of life support."

"No! What? They can't do that!" I said, my eyes widening.

"I know. I said that. . .but nobody could hear me! And I just wanted to talk to you."

"I'm sorry, Maxon. Your mother wouldn't really sign those papers, would she?"

"I don't know." He said uncertainly. "I really, _really_ hope not. But it won't even matter anymore. Not if I don't wake up soon. My brain activity is deteriorating every day."

"Well, maybe that's not such a bad thing. You're too smart for your own good." He chuckled. "Maybe we can finally be even."

"You are not dumb, America," he said softly.

"Thanks," I whispered. "I should go to sleep."

"I'll come back tomorrow." He said, smiling.

"Promise?"

"Promise." He reached his hand out, and so did I. He knew that if we touched, his hand would go right through mine. So we settled with a ghost of a touch, enough so that he wouldn't pass through me. Then, he pulled back abruptly. "I'm gonna die!"

Shocked, I took a step back. "What do you mean?"

"My mother - she signed the papers! They're gonna take me off of life support. I don't know when, but. . .but it's decided."

I gasped. "No! It's too soon, we don't know how to save you yet!"

"We've gotta go talk to my mother," he said. "Now."

"Okay." I agreed. "How?"

"She's in her office. She just signed the papers and gave them to the doctor. You'll find her there."

We rushed over to her office and I knocked. The queen looked up, surprised, but got up to open the door. "Lady America?"

I curtsied. "I've come to speak with you about something very important."

"I'm so busy, I just can't. . ." she sighed, looking over to her desk, scattered with files and documents and papers.

"Just a few minutes, I promise. Nothing is more important than this."

"Alright." She sighed, gesturing. "Take a seat." I sat in one of three chairs in front of her desk. "So what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

"I just wanted to ask you - no, beg you - to give Maxon a little bit more time. He'll pull through, I know it."

"That's so sweet of you, and I'm so glad to know that you care for my son, but. . .it's too late."

"Mom?" Spirit Maxon sounded heartbroken. I'm sure he would've cried if he could've. "Mom, what did you do?"

"Lady America? See, it's too late because I've already signed the papers."

"Oh, Mom!" his voice cracked. "Why? Can't you feel me? I'm right beside you!"

"They're cutting off life support tomorrow." She sounded on the verge of tears. "At noon."

"I understand where you're coming from, but I think you're making a huge mistake here. I believe -"

"It's for the best. For everyone."

"Okay." The word came out almost inaudible. "I'm so sorry to have wasted your time, Your Highness."

"I understand why you've come to talk to me, Lady America. And I appreciate it."

I got up shakily and left her office.

"This is it," Spirit Maxon said. "This is the end of my life."

"No, it isn't!" I said fiercely. "I'll find a way to save you! I _can_!"

"No, America," he whispered. "It's too late."

"It's not the end! You are _not_ going to give up on me like this!" I said. "I know _one_ person who can help me with this. Marlee. We're going to formulate a plan and we're going to get out of this alive."

"Good luck." He vanished.

* * *

That night, I was staring at the picture of me and May together, when Spirit Maxon appeared. I gasped. "What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I decided that I didn't want to spend my last night crying over my fate. I want to do something." He said.

"Okay." I agreed immediately. "Okay. What do you want to do?"

"There is one thing. . ."

"Anything."

"Ugh, I'm so bad at this."

"What? What is it?" I asked.

We were looking at each other. Spirit Maxon was lying in bed beside me, and we were facing each other. Doing nothing but looking at each other. "Are you nervous?" I asked.

"No."

"How can you not be nervous?"

"I think I'm more nervous that you can't touch me," he whispered. "You know, in the hospital, when you touched my hand, and I felt it? My spirit felt it. I don't know how. Do you think that if you'd really be able to touch me, I'd be able to wake up from all of this?"

I lifted my hand up, and so did he. He lifted it up to ghost over mine without passing through it. "I think I know why my spirit's been appearing to you this whole time," he said quietly.

"Why?"

"Because I had unfinished business. You."

* * *

When I woke up the next morning, Spirit Maxon wasn't in bed.

"Maxon?"

"I'm right here." He called. He was leaning against the doors leading to my balcony. Then he said, "I know what I'm supposed to do. Because this time I can do something."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Ames. When my spirit first came to you, I thought maybe I was dead. But I wasn't; not in the _literal_ sense, anyway. In a way, I _was_ dead. But you brought me back. You _saved_ me."

"It's my turn to save you," I said, standing up. Then it came to me. "I have to steal your body."

"What? No! America, you can't do that! You can't risk so much; you might go to jail!"

"I don't care! As long as you make it out of this alive, I don't care if I go to jail for life. All I care is that you get to live."

"The things that you'd have to do -"

"You'll tell me."

"Fine. The hospital wing is on the second floor. You're going to need a van and somebody with _no_ morals."


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

I snuck out of my bedroom at three thirty in the morning with Spirit Maxon. I climbed down a tree and snuck out of the palace gates. Then we ran for it, and Spirit Maxon taught me how to steal a van. Along with it, we got Marlee, our person with no morals.

"So what's this van for?" she asked.

"Medical supplies," I lied through my teeth.

"You didn't tell her?" Spirit Maxon hissed.

"Uh, no," I said.

"No, what?" Marlee said.

"Nothing. We're almost there."

We rammed through the palace gates with the van and parked at the small circular driveway. There was a 99.99 percent chance this would fail, but hopefully - _hopefully_ \- Maxon would be alive by the end of this.

Now we were in the hospital wing. No one was there; it was empty save for a few lethargic nurses and Maxon in his ward. "Okay, you're going to need a cart." Spirit Maxon said once we were in the supplies room. "You need a blood pressure cuff and a portable ventilator." I followed his instructions, putting everything in the cart.

"America, what are you _doing_?" Marlee asked, her brow knitting in confusion.

"Alright. Okay." I said. "I knew you wouldn't do this if I told you the truth."

"Do I even _want_ to hear this?"

I sighed. "Probably not. You see, Maxon is right beside me."

"Huh?" She didn't believe me.

"Well, not _Maxon_ , just his spirit. He told me it was up to me to save him, so his spirit's been appearing to me randomly. So I came up with a plan to save him, since his mother's planning to take him off life support at noon today. We're going to steal his body, and you're going to help me do that."

"Really?"

"Really."

"I just. . .I'm having a hard time believing this, America. Why are you doing this?"

"Because I love him!" I shouted. "I love Maxon, and I _have_ to save him!" Spirit Maxon looked at me, shocked. "I do, I love you."

"No one's ever said that to me before," he whispered. "You're the first one."

 _Kamber_? I wanted to say aloud. What about her? He seemed to know what I was thinking, because he shook his head. _Not even her_.

A huge grin crept up on her face. "I've been waiting a million years to hear that. Let's go steal a body, America."

* * *

And there we went. Marlee and I were in white lab coats, both of us with caps and masks on to hide most of our faces so no one would recognize us, pushing along a stretcher for the body.

We hurried into Maxon's personal ward, where his body was. "Get me on the gurney, quick," Maxon said. We started pushing back the blankets, but then we heard footsteps outside.

 _C'mon! At four in the morning!_ I thought. That must've been when the doctor's shift started, maybe.

"I have to distract him," I said.

"Be careful, America," Spirit Maxon said as I rushed out the door. "Doctor Mormon's really smart."

"Doctor Mormon?" I said.

"Yeah?" he said. I stretched my hand out and he shook it.

"Hi. My name is. . .Rebecca Porter." I went with whatever random name came out of my mouth.

"Tell him you're a doctor," Spirit Maxon said.

"I'm a doctor." I repeated.

"You're a special consultant from Whites Medical Institute."

"I'm a special consultant from Whites Medical Institute."

"And Doctor Ashlar sent me in for a final evaluation." I said, repeating Spirit Maxon's words.

"I had no verbal or written instructions to that." He looked suspiciously at me.

"Tell him there's new evidence to support the full functionality can be restored. We need to run some tests."

I repeated every word he said without thinking.

"Who's we?" he asked.

"My team is downstairs." I said.

"This is the first I've heard of this. Mind if I speak with Dr. Ashlar?"

"Oh, no, you can go and confirm it. We'll just wait right here."

"I'll put him on." He got out his cell phone, typed in a number, and put it to his ear.

 _Trapped._

So I did the first thing that came to mind: My fist shot out with as much force as I could muster and I punched the doctor. He fell to the ground, and just then Marlee came through the door with Maxon's body on the gurney.

Everything went downhill from there.

"That way!" Spirit Maxon said, and we wheeled him away.

That's when we started getting peoples' attentions. The nurses snapped to attention, gasping at the sight of us. The doctor on call, the one I'd just punched, got up and pressed the phone to his ear after dialing another number. "This is Dr. Mormon, and I need security on the 2nd floor hospital wing, _now!_ "

"Don't jostle!" Spirit Maxon said. "Go faster! Go right up here!"

We turned a corner, rushing for the elevator. . .When security decided to arrive and spoil the party.

Marlee was at the front and me at the back. We were right at the elevator. So the elevator opened, and Marlee pushed the security guard into the elevator.

* * *

 **Marlee POV**

I pushed the security guard into the elevator just before he got to us, and knew I was in serious trouble. I just hoped it bought America enough time.

The guard scrambled to his feet and raised his hand to punch me or something. And then my eyes widened.

The guard had the tube that was breathing for Maxon in his hand.

I yelled out a curse.

* * *

 **America POV**

I was oblivious to what had gone on in the elevator, so I just kept pushing the gurney for the life of it. Security guards started closing in on me at all sides, yelling at me to stop and hold my hands above my head. Soon I would be surrounded.

I had no choice. I had to stop. In the middle of everything, I stood hunched over protectively in front of Maxon's body. I would die before they got to touch him, much less remove him from life support.

"America," Spirit Maxon said frantically.

"Maxon," I panted.

"Oh my God, America," he said. "My breathing tube is gone!"

"What? No! What can I do, what can I do?" I looked around frantically, my hands were shaking from the sudden adrenaline rush.

"It's too late," he said. "It's happening."

"No, I refuse to let you die!" I said fiercely. "Be strong."

"It's pulling me away!" he said, before the monotonous _beep_ came from the heart monitor. Just a flat line.

"NO!" I shouted. "Stay with me, stay with me, Maxon!" Tears fell from my eyes, coursing down my cheeks. "I won't let you die!"

And then I leaned down, grabbing both sides of his face, and let my lips come in contact with his.

Spirit Maxon was fading away, but I could hear him gasp.

I moved my lips against his unresponsive ones, trying to get a response out of him. _Don't die, don't die, Maxon, PLEASE!_ I thought in my head. _Stay with me, stay with me. Be strong_.

But then my bubble was burst and my lips were forced away from his when two security guards lunged at me, knocking me to the ground. _It's over_. "No!" I yelled over and over, tears rushing down my face and blurring everything as more guards piled up on top of me, holding me down. "Maxon! MAXON! NO!"

And then it was just the _beeeeep_ of the machine, mocking me. Telling me Maxon was gone for good.

I gasped.

Something had changed. The _beeeep_ had turned into a steady _beep, beep, beep_. The heart monitor told me his heart was beating again.

"What's going on?" I looked up and realized it was Maxon's mother. The queen.

"That's not possible," another voice said.

And then Maxon coughed his way awake.

Adele and Queen Amberly rushed over to his side. "Maxon? Honey, can you hear me?" His mother said, stroking his cheek.

The guards' holds on me slackened. I ripped off my mask, cap, and lab coat and got up. The queen looked at me, smiling, and her eyes told me that it was okay to come over to him.

"It's me," I whispered. "Maxon, sweetheart, it's me."

"America." He croaked, and sat up.

"You're alive."

"America?"

"Yes?"

"I love you, too."


	21. Epilogue

Epilogue

"Ready, miss?" Marlee said as she fastened the corset.

"It's not 'miss' to you anymore, Marlee," I corrected her. "It's America. I've told you before."

"Can't help it," she giggled. "You'll always be 'miss' to me."

"And to answer your question: Yes, I could not be more ready."

Today I was getting married. Well, tonight it was just me and Maxon under a huge oak tree and Gavril marrying us. And Marlee was my one and only bridesmaid. The _real_ wedding technically was two months from now, rapidly being planned.

But tonight it was just me and Maxon. No cameras to watch us, no stress of looking stupid or regal or poised or princessly. I didn't have to worry about any of that tonight. It would be our special moment away from everything.

The dress, a strapless, beaded gown was made of yards of ivory silk organza that had slightly gathered with a diagonal pleat of tulle on the bodice. The beautiful look was finished with a silvery embroidered waistband. Simple, but elegant, just like my style throughout the whole Selection. My real wedding dress was being made by experts, but if tonight I got it my way, I was fine with it. Besides, Marlee, Elaine, and Amber had made it by hand, and nothing was more special than that.

I put on the five-inch white pumps and Marlee helped me put on my veil. She had already done my makeup, keeping it simple and natural like I'd instructed.

The sun was beginning to set, exactly in time with our plan. "C'mon, America, let's go! Maxon is waiting on us!" She bounced in excitement.

"Alright, then, if everything's set, let's go."

We left the bathroom and went straight out to the gardens. Today they were especially beautiful, bathed in the golden light of the sun setting. The floral scent was ever-present and, as always, comforting.

Marlee and I walked, until we reached the end of a stone path leading to the tree. There, we both stopped, and my breath was taken away.

There he was. Maxon, looking dashing in a royal blue suit, his hair disheveled as I'd last left it (I told him there was no way I was marrying him with his too-perfect hair), grinning crookedly.

 _Mine_.

Shortly after he'd woken up from his coma, he'd ended the Selection and proposed to me. By that time, I had no doubts about how I felt about him or whether I wanted to marry him. So I said yes. Of course.

Marlee pecked my cheek and flounced down the aisle throwing rose petals picked straight from the garden. Tonight, it was just me, Maxon, Marlee, and Gavril. No one else. I was walking myself down the aisle.

The first few steps were wobbly and unsteady, but I quickly found my footing. My heart was pounding in anticipation to be married to the beautiful, amazing man that had forever changed my life.

Once I reached Maxon, he immediately took my hand in his and leaned over to whisper in my ear, "You're looking positively radiant."

"And _you're_ looking devilishly handsome," I whispered back.

He kissed me right on my earlobe. Marlee was giggling uncontrollably and Gavril was giving us a knowing smile.

And so it went. We said our vows, all without doubt. I couldn't stop staring at him, and at some point I started crying. I hadn't noticed the tears until he wiped them away with the pad of his thumb.

We would come to love and grow fond of that oak tree, the gardens, and the scent of them. We would rule the country together as one, making decisions about what was best for our people. I would produce his heir/s and I would raise them with him. We would grow old together, retire our positions as king and queen, and look back on the time where we were young

I could envision exactly that with no trouble. It was what I'd wanted forever.

This was the start of my future. My life. With Maxon.

So there it was, in the light of the sunset, that Gavril declared us man and wife. He brought his lips to mine tenderly, pressed a lingering kiss there. Marlee shrieked and Gavril outright laughed. Blushing, Maxon pulled back. I bet I was a little pink myself, but not because I was embarrassed.

But because this was the beginning of everything.

"I love you, Maxon," I whispered as he laced his fingers through mine.

"I love you, too America," he whispered back, leaning forward until his forehead rested to touch mine. "Forever."

"Forever," I agreed.

* * *

 **A/N:** Well.

We've done it. We've made it.

I can't tell you _what_ a journey my first Fanfiction was. I couldn't have done it with all my faithful readers, reviewers, and all those who favorited/followed. Of course, since this was my first time writing, I got mixed reviews. Some of you liked it and kept it up with the positive reviews, and some well. . .didn't.

But that's all part of the experience.

To all those who have joined me on this journey, thank you so much! I love you all!

Maybe I'll make another Fanfiction, maybe I won't. We'll see.

-Red


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